“Enough fuel remains to escape into space or to land on the planet. Tell us whether the planet is viable.”
They stood on the bridge. An eerie orange glow from the massive sun looming off the starboard bow flooded the small compartment. The inferno engulfed views from half of the deck’s portals. A man rose from the pilot's station. Aiden recognized him as the military leader of the colony. He tried to remember the man’s name. The woman took the commander's place.
“Are you saying if we abandon the planet, we'll drift in space for eons?” asked Aiden. Their peril hit him like a punch to the throat.
“No, the ship’s power cells contain enough energy to operate the stasis units for another 314 years,” replied the commander, assuming the conversation in a matter-of-fact voice loud enough to be heard over the siren's screams. “We need you to determine whether the planet is habitable while we still have an opportunity to choose.” The commander motioned Aiden to a seat behind the two flight control chairs. A semi-circular display wrapped around the chair.
The commander, with his even voice and controlled movements, projected an image of stability and action. Aiden moved to station and fastened his harness without consciously realizing he had complied with the directive.
“Three hundred years limits hope someone will rescue our ship adrift in the universe.” Aiden regained control of the fear in his voice.
Ignoring Aiden's concern, the commander moved to the co-pilot’s station. Aiden focused on the screens in front of him. He ticked through the factors affecting planet habitability: atmosphere, gravity, radiation, temperature, food, water. Quick swipes on the display brought the ship’s sensors to bear on the tiny planet delicately balanced between the two stars.
“Can you turn off the siren? It's hard to think with that damn thing wailing. I assume we're the only colonists awake, and I think we all get it.” Aiden fought the urge to go on. He had to focus, had to suppress all distractions. I have no time. He noted the wry smile the woman cast his way as she turned the alarm off. “Thank you,” he said. Aiden turned his attention to his task, unaware of her response.
The planet perched on a vertical axis between two suns. A vertical access meant no wobble in the planet’s movement. The twin suns constrained the planet’s movement to stationary rotation—no change in solar distance and no wobble meant no seasons. The most striking feature of the planet, visible even from space, was a series of massive mountain ranges girdling the surface. These enormous ridges appeared to traverse latitudinal isotherms, separating temperature zones into even bands. Aiden wondered if the mountains created the even surface temperatures between ranges or if the temperature bands caused the massive insulating bands of rock to form—plate tectonics driven by atmospheric temperature.
“Time remaining: 8 minutes, 13 seconds,” said the woman.
“Not helping,” said Aiden. Focus. Ignore distractions. Temperatures range on the safe side of critical thresholds, so move on.
The atmosphere contained oxygen levels above those on Earth—at least on the Earth they left—before the Singularity. Concentrations hovered below lethal levels. Check. He selected a spectral analysis of periodic elements. His brow furrowed. Unknown elements existed in trace quantities throughout the atmosphere and in large amounts underground. He relaxed a little when the unknown elements measured zero radiation.
A loud, low groan from the ship interrupted Aiden's thoughts. Fatigued metal. Like a great ancient beast that had carried a burden its entire life, the ship cried for an end.
Gravity, though stronger than on Earth, pulled within human skeletal tolerance. Check. The planet appeared to be teaming with life of different types. Some of it had to be edible. A wave of nausea swept over Aiden. He had no desire to eat anything right now, much less some potentially unsavory alien goo. The planet, while not paradise, might just work. A dark thought crept in. Had the Emigration Effort lied about their destination to get people to sign onto the colonial effort? Paradise sells.
Focus! Aiden clenched his teeth. He brought more sensors up, cross-checked his data, swallowed hard. He detected no water—even in the atmosphere. Aiden tapped the screen.
They sent us to a world with absolute humidity of zero percent to the second decimal. Aiden put his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes. We need water to live. Then again, drifting in space for ages without awakening resembles death. Can we make water?
Aiden brought up the planet's element profile again. Minute amounts of hydrogen existed—enough for a small amount of water, not enough to support an entire colony . . . and precious little carbon.
What kind of planet doesn't have wads of carbon lying all over the place?
“We need an answer. Can we live on the planet?” The interruption came from the commander.
Aiden jerked as his thoughts came back to the cramped bridge. “I need more time.”
Another loud complaint erupted from the ship.
“We don’t have more time. Lieutenant, set a course for open space. Fire thrusters on my mark.” The commander brought his attention back to the console in front of him. At a rapid clip he evaluated the ship’s systems and reconfigured them to achieve escape velocity.
“The navigation array is still erratic. I’ll have to dead reckon,” said the woman.
“Dead reckon,” replied the commander.
A loud noise rang out—a sharp and strident cry from the ship.
“Course set. Thrusters ready to fire on your command Sir.” Her voice betrayed the emotion gripping her. She conveyed no doubt, however, in her ability to execute.
The commander counted down with the calm of a routine training exercise, “Full ignition in five, four, three—”
“Wait! The planet’s habitable! Humans can survive there.” Panic fell upon Aiden. Deep space meant near certain death for the five thousand colonists aboard.
“Are you sure?” The commander peered around his seat with a stern look.
“Yes, head for the planet. It’s our best option,” Aiden replied trying to stifle the trepidation in his voice.
“Lieutenant, set a new course for that planet.”
“Yes, Sir.” For a moment, her eyes blazed a silent threat at Aiden. Then she looked away and rapidly recalculated the coordinates. “Course changed; thrusters standing by.”
“Bring the ship around. Let’s hope the starboard bow thrusters light this time.”
“Thrusters firing.”
Silent bursts nudged the bow of the ship away from the boiling plasma surface of the star. The sun started shifting from view in the starboard portals. The orange glow in the bridge faded to the blackness of space. The bridge lights, just a few moments ago overwhelmed by the sun’s light, now shone brightly.
“Hull temperature is approaching 3200 degrees Celsius, commander.” She spoke without emotion in her voice now.
“Engage primary engines at full throttle.” The commander made some quick calculations as he spoke. “You’ll have to divert bow thrust to primary in order to reach escape velocity. We only have enough fuel to make it to the planet in a straight line, Lieutenant. Remind us why you earned a place on this mission.”
“Understood, Commander.” She focused on her instruments.
Aiden watched a star as gigantic and menacing as the one they tried to escape come into view through the far right portal. In the center of the star, between the spaceship and the second of the twin demons, a planet turned—the world he hoped would be their salvation.
“Cutting bow thrusters. Diverting fuel to primary.” The lieutenant alternated eyeing her console and the planet moving across their field of view.
A sudden rush of fear pushed Aiden to cry out, “But we’re off course! He said we only had enough fuel to fly in a straight line!”
“Button it up!” said the commander; “Damn civilians.”
Aiden bit his lip. The ship shuddered and cried as it slowly accelerated out of the relentless pull of the sun’s gravity. As the spaceship began to mov
e away, the fading momentum from the initial bow thrust brought the nose of the ship around at a slower and slower rate to face the planet until at last the ship headed dead on toward the tiny planet between the two great suns.
“Lieutenant, run a complete check of the flight systems. I want to preempt surprises like that fuel pump.” The commander unbuckled and moved from his chair. The gravitational pull of the star had begun to fade, turning his stride into bounces as the ship returned to null gravity.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Mr. Haven, my name is Commander Walker. I lead this colony’s military.” Commander Walker extended his hand without emotion to Aiden. The hand was large with powerfully thick fingers and deep ebony skin roughened by honest work.
“Aiden Haven. Call me Aiden.” Aiden shook the commander's hand, wincing at the pain radiating from Walker's crushing grip.
“Mr. Haven, colony ships deliver their passengers to the destination world with minimal human intervention. The Emigration Effort deemed skills to operate a large starship irrelevant to a new colony. Thus, we lack a full crew compliment for this ship. Do you have any experience operating space-going vessels?” asked the commander.
“Nothing of this size.” Aiden hesitated, suspecting the commander sought experience beyond his capabilities. “I shuttled tourists on the Mars–Neptune route.”
“That will have to do. I need you to learn and assess the environmental systems of this vessel and report their condition. Mechanical failures have crippled weapons and communication. We need to understand and deal with any other problems.”
“Mechanical problems? What kind of mechanical problems? Did they put us in a broken down vessel?” Aiden wasn't prone to judge the worst in people, but the last twenty minutes had chafed.
“Considering that we traveled near the speed of light for the past 109 years and reached our intended location, I think this old gal has held up well. Re-entry is hard on a starship. To ensure a successful landing, we need to prepare for more failures.”
“Wait. I'm sorry. Did you say we traveled for a hundred years?” Aiden's jaw dropped.
“No, I said one hundred nine. You will find the environmental systems—”
Aiden interrupted. “That’s way past our arrival time! What happened?”
“Our delay is a mystery. The lieutenant and I were awakened by automatic revival about forty minutes ago. A time log from the ship’s chronometer raises more questions than it answers. Whether we traveled in a straight line or orbited this sun for decades we'll leave for the astrophysicists to decide. Now, Mr. Haven, the environmental systems—please.” Walker seemed to tear this last nicety from his tongue.
“Ok,” said Aiden. He turned back to his console and began familiarizing himself with the ship's environmental mechanisms. The design of the ship’s environmental systems was intuitive, enabling Aiden to evaluate the ship’s condition with his limited knowledge. He located basic life support, which appeared in working order; he was breathing after all. Stasis chambers, those rows and rows of cylinders preserving a precious cargo of adventurous souls, completed the life support systems.
“Uh, Walker? Come look at these readings,” said Aiden.
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Acknowledgments
I thank Sheila for her generous gifts of time and direct, insightful feedback.
About the Author
The power of storytelling has awed me since childhood. I am honored and grateful that you invested your time and energy in reading my stories. Thank you. Seriously, I know you have options, and I appreciate your time. If you enjoyed this tale, please help me spread the word by writing a review on Goodreads or Amazon.
I write in Seattle, Washington, where my love of nature, fascination with the future, and desire to affect lasting and positive change continually get wet. Moss grows on my car because I never wash it. Also, I’m lousy at staying in touch; so if you’d like me to ping you when a new book comes out, sign up for my mailing list.
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