Mother Moon

by Bob Goddard

  But there was no time to stand and gaze in wonder. Wavelets were lapping over the sill of the hatchway. He had to get all the pods out before the Ark sank.

  “Stand by the door Nicole,” he said as he waded past his co-pilot again, “and push the pods out as I float them up to you.”

  He reached up, flicked open the locking pin and pulled down the lever to release the first stack of five pods. The one at the bottom which had been submerged popped out from underneath the pile, causing the others to tumble amid shouts and squeals from their inhabitants.

  “Sorry!” he shouted. “Got to get you out quick!” He shoved the pods one at a time towards Nicole, who guided them through the open hatch into the bright tropical sunshine. Before the last was outside the next ones were nudging her back.

  By the time half of the colonists’ pods were released from their racks the water inside the Ark was up to Christakis’ waist. He could see now where it was coming from. At the rear of the cabin was a light blue glow of sunlight shining through the water. The rear of the fuselage had been ripped away leaving the plass tube that formed the passenger compartment exposed at the back. It must have been punctured by the impact.

  The effort of working in this horrendous gravity was making him fight for breath. Fortunately the pods floated away to the front hatch with no more than a firm shove. There were three more stacks each side of the aisle when he felt the Ark start to tip down at the rear. He rushed to reach the remaining pods as the sea level rose rapidly past his chest. Christakis barely had time to drag in a deep breath before he was submerged by the chill water. Then the emergency lighting went out.

  Nicole was holding on to the tilting hatchway, guiding the pods through it when Christakis burst to the surface beside her, gasping in lungfulls of air. When he could speak he rasped: “Just the livestock and the equipment pods to release. Make sure you get out, Nicole. We’re sinking fast.”

  Before she could answer he had taken a deep breath and dived back down into the cool dark water once more. She waited an age before more pods burst to the surface, these ones containing the sedated sheep and goats, eggs and nets. Nicole was barely able to push the last one out before the hatchway sank below the surface of the water.

  “Chris!” she shouted. “Come on! Get out now!” But there was no sign of the captain. She pulled herself under the water to escape through the hatch and then kicked towards the sunlight. As she reached the surface and dragged in a ragged breath, she saw the scorched and blackened nose of the Ark beside her. It sank steadily down until the tip slipped below the waves amid a burst of bubbles.

  “No!” She shouted. “Chris! Come on. Please get out of there.”

  She ducked her head under the water intending to dive back down, but could see the dark shape of the Ark slipping ever deeper into the dark blue abyss. There was no way to reach it now. He had to get himself out. He had to.

  * * * * *

  Earth: New Colony, Day One

  When Nicole finally reached the shore, holding on to a pod packed full of eggs and fishing nets, she was exhausted. She had trodden water for fifteen minutes near the spot where the Ark went down, willing Christakis to emerge from beneath the waves.

  As she did so she became aware of a continuous roaring and crashing sound. She worked out it was the noise of breakers erupting on a reef. She could just make out the jagged rocks being pounded with flying white spray. But here, nearer the island, the water was almost smooth, just small wavelets lapping at the pod she was clinging to.

  Eventually Nicole gave up her lonely watch and kicked towards the shore, sobbing quietly for her captain. They had kept their relationship formal and professional but there had been a special spark between them. She had felt sure they would become partners once they reached their longed-for paradise on Earth. To have come so far and then lost him this close to their dream was unbearable.

  Her knees touched the white coral sand and she raised her head to see a beach littered with plass pods. Nicole felt like curling up in a ball and crying her eyes out. But she couldn’t. She was now in command and needed to get the colonists on their feet and organised without delay. On this strange planet there would be only a few hours of daylight left. The sun now scorching her back would be gone and darkness would bring its own set of challenges.

  Nicole struggled to her feet and swayed with hands on knees as her head swam with dizziness. A bird screeched overhead and its shadow flew past on the sand, but she couldn’t raise her head to look at it.

  “Where’s Captain Christakis, Nicole?” asked one of the men kneeling on the sand nearest to her.

  “He… umm… he didn’t make it out of the ship.” She struggled to keep her voice steady. “He went back down to release the last of the pods as it was sinking. The goats and sheep came up. And the food and seeds, plus this one.” She indicated the plass tube rocking against her knee.

  “But the tools and equipment, the transmitters and PV panels, and all our medical supplies, they didn’t make it out. And neither did Captain Christakis. The ship sank so fast into such deep water, I…,” she couldn’t suppress a sob, “I couldn’t get down there to try and find him.” She buried her face in her hands and wailed out loud.

  When she raised her head she found three of the colonists had wrapped their arms around her. They held her until her sobbing stopped.

  “I… I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “He did an amazing job of getting the Ark down in one piece… or almost one piece. And he made sure every one of us got out alive.”

  She looked up and down the beach. “Is everybody out of their pods now?”

  “Yes,” said the man, “but some are having big problems.”

  “What sort of problems?”

  “The soft sand. We didn’t train on sand like this in the centrifuge and perhaps we should have done. At least two have turned an ankle and suffered a lower leg fracture already. One woman has fallen and injured her wrist. It looks like a broken scaphoid.”

  “Oh!” Nicole realised their troubles were just beginning. “We’re not even off the beach yet and already we have casualties.” She shielded her eyes and surveyed the scattered colonists sitting, kneeling or lying on the sand and in the shallow water surrounded by their empty pods. Only a few were standing and they were holding on to each other for support.

  “This gravity is affecting us badly,” said the man. “Some are reluctant to come out of the sea where the water is supporting their weight. They say they intend to stay there. You’re our Governor now, Nicole. What should we do?”

  She weighed up their priorities. “We’ve lost all our medical supplies. We will have to improvise as best we can. Perhaps there are branches from the trees we can use for support. We can’t stay here at the water’s edge. This sun is burning. We’ll all have sunstroke if we don’t get in the shade.

  “And the desalinators didn’t make it out of the Ark, so we need to find fresh water or we are in big trouble. We have no tools and all our electronics, photovoltaics and transmitters are gone, so we can’t get any advice from Armstrong Base. They might not even know that we’ve landed safely...”

  She was deep in thought for a few more seconds. “Nothing we can do about that.” Nicole turned and raised her voice: “Right, everybody. Make your way carefully up the beach to the trees.”

  She spoke to the three standing next to her. “Please help the injured move into the shade, then we’ll drag these supply pods up there and set up camp. Chris gave his life to get us all out of the Ark. For his sake, we have to make sure we survive.”

  Despite her brave words, Nicole dreaded the Herculean task that faced them. Without tools it would be like entering a new Stone Age. Would they learn to cope with the crushing gravity? How would she deal with those who insisted on staying in the sea? Of one thing she felt certain: whatever the future held, the re-population of the Earth had begun.

  * * * * *

  Moon, 2156: Friday, 12th November

  Ngaio had spent the nig
ht watching the Earth turning slowly on her window screen, her thoughts in turmoil, while Gunther snored beside her. The previous evening, as the Ark’s last known position passed out of transmission range, she had fought in the Lunar Parliament for a stay of execution. The six other members had wanted to declare the Ark lost and its one hundred occupants missing, presumed dead, without further delay.

  Ngaio had argued passionately for them to wait until tomorrow, to give the colonists one more day, before passing judgement on the mission. For the sake of the families. For the sake of all those who had devoted their lives to the Return To Earth dream. For the sake of Mankind. Give the colonists one more day to set up their PV panels and transmitters before you write them off, she had pleaded.

  Only after she had brought in Davis Jansen, the Mission Controller, had she finally got her way. He had agreed there was a slim possibility that the colonists might still be alive. The other Ministers had deferred to Ngaio’s status as Luna’s senior pilot/cosmonaut, former Governor and first Moonborn. They would postpone any announcement until 18 hours on Friday in the hope that, by some miracle, the colonists had survived. But if no signal was received by that time, the Ark would be declared lost with all hands.

  For the past hour Ngaio had been sitting in the Flight Control Centre at Armstrong, sipping coffee and watching the time tick inexorably towards 18 hours. The whole mission control team were there, looking tired and defeated, wishing for the Ark’s frequency to crackle into life. Now, with only minutes to go before the deadline, any hopes they had nurtured were evaporating.

  She became aware that someone was standing behind her and turned to see Davis Jansen looking down at her with sad eyes. His hand rested on her shoulder. Then there was another and Ngaio saw that all the team were gathering behind her chair as the time clicked to 17.59.

  “I’m sorry, Ngaio,” said Davis. “You did everything you could. We all did—”

  Bee-eep, Bee-eep.

  The Flight Control Centre’s main screen lit up with a view of Parliament’s Debating Room and a middle-aged man with receding hair and bushy eyebrows.

  “This is Governor Leo Särestöniemi with some very sad news. It is now almost 24 hours since the Ark was due to touch down on the surface of planet Earth carrying one hundred brave colonists and the hopes and dreams of us all.

  “As you heard yesterday there were problems with the ship’s passage through Earth’s atmosphere. The Ark failed to reply to radio messages and the automatic transponder has ceased to function.

  “In the hope that the Ark had somehow managed to make landfall and the colonists had survived, we have waited until now for the crew to send a signal from one of the four portable transmitters they carried on board with them. I regret to tell you that no such signal has been received and we are able to draw only one conclusion.

  “It is therefore my sad duty to announce the loss of the Ark and all one hundred brave colonists. It is with a heavy heart that I pass on the sincere condolences of the Lunar Parliament to all the families involved. Our thoughts are with you and we will be holding a memorial service in the Grand Plaza of Sokolova City on Sunday at noon, to remember all these brave souls.

  “Following this tragic loss your Ministers will be meeting tomorrow for a special session of Parliament to decide upon the future of our space exploration missions and to debate a proposal to make an historic amendment to the Lunar Constitution…”

  “What?!” Ngaio hissed, stiffening in her seat.

  “… that in future, craft leaving the surface of the Moon will carry no more than five individuals…”

  “NO!” She shouted at the screen.

  “… and that no further efforts to place humans on the surface of Earth will be attempted.”

  “They can’t do that! The spineless idiots!” She sprang to her feet in fury.

  “All our energies and activities will in future be focussed on expanding and improving our lives here on Mother Moon. A tragedy like this must never happen again.”

  Ngaio was on her way out of the Flight Control Centre heading angrily for the airlock and her hopper for the trip back to Sokolova City to square up to the ‘spineless idiots’ when her comm chimed.

  “What?” she snapped.

  “Oh!” It was one of the young nurses at the Yasmine Rozek Hospital’s elderly care unit. “I’m sorry to call you at a bad time, Ngaio. But it is your mother, Tamala…”

  Ngaio halted her headlong rush with a stutter-step skid.

  “What about my mother?”

  “I am so sorry. It was while we were watching the Governor’s announcement…”

  “What has happened to her?”

  “She has… she has… suffered a collapse, Ngaio.”

  “Is the doctor there?”

  “He is, but…”

  “But what?”

  “I am so sorry. She has passed away.”

  * * * * *

  Earth, 1504

  “Ess, esss. Sheepee,” said the creature. “Sheepee breeng laansmaaan,” he tapped Yonaton’s chest again, “aann seemaaan,” he tapped his own chest. “Seee sheepee fursss.” He pointed across the cavern, smiled and beckoned Yonaton again.

  I have no idea what he is going on about, thought Yonaton, but perhaps I’d better humour him if I want to find a way out of here. He struggled to get onto his knees in the shallow, rocky water and then slowly, unsteadily got to his feet and stood up.

  The creature beckoned and swam gracefully away on its back into deeper water.

  “Esss, come, seee sheepee,” it gurgled as it urged Yonaton to follow.

  Yonaton bent forward and coughed to expel the last drops of water from his lungs, then straightened up to look around. Although his chest still felt sore, his throat now felt fine and the rasping, hacking cough had gone. Maybe the salt water had cured it and cleared the congestion?

  He looked back to where Meemaaan-Seemaaan was waiting in the gloom. Yonaton decided to get back into the water and follow him. Then try to find a way out of this dark and chilly cave to see if Ben and Mammed were truly still alive.

  Yonaton took a step forward and fell headlong with an undignified splash. He had been standing on a rocky ledge and was now in deep water. He surfaced with a splutter and felt the creature’s paw under his arm, supporting him. Then they were gliding through the water, the creature swimming effortlessly on its back, pulling Yonaton along with his head just clear of the surface.

  As they crossed the broad cavern Yonaton began to make out through the gloom an odd rounded shape, like a gigantic tree trunk, rising out of the water at a shallow angle. As they got closer, the dim light from above showed that this smooth green thing extended far out of the water and lay on the rocky slope of the cavern floor.

  Whatever was it? It was too smooth and much too big to be a tree.

  “Sheepeee,” said the creature with a smile as they came up to the side of it and Yonaton felt the stony bottom of the cave floor against his knees. He scrambled to find his footing so he could stand up in the thigh-deep water. The creature released his arm and moved close to the rounded object. Then, to Yonaton’s surprise, he slapped it.

  Boom! A low hollow sound reverberated around the cavern. Whatever it was, it was hollow inside, like a vast drum. Yonaton waded forward and touched the cold, damp, algae-encrusted surface of the thing. He thumped it with the side of his fist.

  Boom! Another bass note rang out. Yonaton stood with his mouth open. “What is this thing…?” he whispered, in wonder.

  “Sheepeee,” came the answer.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Readee storee,” said the Meemaaan-Seemaaan. “I breeng.” And with that he slipped back beneath the water leaving Yonaton wondering what on Earth was going on. He slid his hand across the smooth round face of the ‘sheepeee’, trying to guess its purpose. Then he turned to see the female and child watching him silently from the water.

  Were these really a race of sea people? He had heard wild stories
that they existed, but had always dismissed such tales as ridiculous. In all his travels he’d never encountered anything like them. Should he smile and wave to them? Or would that startle them? Maybe it was best to wait for Meemaaan-Seemaaan to return.

  Yonaton shivered and realised just how cold and exhausted he was. He needed to find a way out of this place and…

  The seaman surfaced a short distance away and blinked the water away from his eyes as he swam towards Yonaton. He had brought something with him. A broad plank of wood, maybe?

  As he came closer, Yonaton could see the object he was carrying was not wood at all. It looked smooth and transluscent, like a well-worn pane of glass, but as Meemaaan-Seemaaan arrived in front of him, Yonaton realised it was far too wide to be a window pane. It was impossibly long too. As the seaman raised it up out of the water, Yonaton could see it was at least as tall as he was!

  “Readee storee,” said the creature, bringing it close enough for Yonaton to touch. It was cool and hard and something else… Yonaton could feel marks on its surface. He moved to let the glimmer of light from the overhead sunbeam illuminate the object. Then he could see neat lines of marks and squiggles etched into the surface. They looked just like the carvings on those stones at the burial site. The same carvings that had got him and Ben into such trouble and had almost cost them their lives.

  It must be some sort of writing. And there was lots of it! He tilted his head to the side to try to read the columns of marks. Maybe he could recognise some of it and then work out the rest.

  “Nooo,” said the seaman. “Readee theees.” Yonaton turned and saw the creature was scanning the lines of marks from left to right, with his head upright, instead of reading from top to bottom. That was weird. As far as Yonaton knew, all writing was done in vertical columns and always had been.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “I can’t read it like that. I don’t understand this language.”