Colony (Terran Chronicles Book 3)

by James Jackson

  The secondary flood plans for the city are more subtle. The entire city’s storm water drainage system flows away from the river, and ends just before the tree line where the large, deep, canal has been constructed.

  The third part of the flood protection plan is the simplest, the far side of the river remains untouched, and other than the walkways, continues to exist in its natural state.

  Patrick feels a swelling of pride as he gazes at their achievements. Almost one thousand houses line the streets and roads that make up Hawking. Dozens more exist in various stages of construction, with crews working quickly and efficiently. The massive tent city shrinks day by day, as each person partakes in a lottery. Those that win are responsible for finishing the interior of their new homes. Many of the colonists are married couples, but as of yet there are no children, other than Johnny.

  The house building teams consist of ten groups of twenty builders, and thirty colonists. Each team is a formidable force, and able to completely assemble one house per day. Additional groups prepare the home sites in advance with their earth moving equipment. These advance groups lay concrete slabs, install the property’s basic plumbing, and run the underground electricity. Other teams are also kept busy as they deliver basic materials such as the house frames, exterior walls, roof tiles, prefabricated windows, and more. To add variety and flair, the homes have either two, three, or four bedrooms, and come in more than a dozen different layouts. Ahead of all of these teams, are those that clear the land, dig drainage lines, pave the roads, then parcel up the land.

  Patrick stares at the town center and frowns disapprovingly. Most of the town’s support buildings, such as a police station, fire station, and even the planned medical center, have not been built. Empty slabs of concrete are all that exists for these, and other buildings. He quickly, and guiltily, glances up at where the radio telescope is to be built. One important building has been built though, and stands out amongst the city center’s vacant lots. It is a long, two story high building, and acts as the colony’s supply depot. There is no economy on New Earth, as none is needed, yet. Everyone simply goes to the supply building, selects what they need, and signs for it. Gazing down at the river once more, his thoughts turn to their water supply. It has been confirmed that the river flows from a distant glacier, one that is melting fast, in geological terms. He recalls Emma telling him that it will take hundreds of years to melt away. A water purification facility sits far up river, the treated water is pumped into a massive water tower. A series of these towers is planned, but like so many other buildings, factories, and farms, they remain a concept only. There is simply too much to erect, and like so many other facilities, will be expanded upon once the Liberty arrives.

  Another building which was deemed essential by Emma, and built very early on, is the water reclamation facility at the end of the storm water canal. Those that doubted the need for this building so early on, are astonished at how much water is already flowing into its holding tanks. Perhaps the greatest surprise is the color and texture of this water. Between the run-off from the town’s drains, and the effluent from people’s homes, this facility is kept busy. Emma claims that the water which leaves this facility is safe to drink, but just to be sure, it is pumped far out to sea via a specialized pipeline. Massive diffusers occupy the end of this pipe, causing the water to exit in hundreds of tiny streams.

  People still argue long and hard about George and Patrick using their bodysuits to construct the housing. But as there are only two suits, it would take too long for them to build a house. Besides, the pair has been busy setting up sawmills, the mini-steel mill, and a small glass factory. The pair works non-stop on the city’s unique buildings, and makes sure that any resources that are in short supply, are provided for, one way or another.

  Walker’s Day

  With almost everyone on New Earth, the Terran feels empty. Only the ship’s crew remains on board, and for them the days are long and boring. Virtually everything scheduled to be transported down, has been. The only remaining crates belong to General Walker.

  Walker personally supervises the loading of a chest high wooden crate marked, ‘fragile essentials’. Once it is carefully loaded, he slowly walks around, examining it from top to bottom. It is longer than it is wide, and stamped with numerous arrows pointing upward. These arrows are accompanied by the words, ‘store this way up.’ He anxiously paces around the special consignment, checking that it is firmly in place.

  Once Walker is satisfied, he calls, “Okay, it’s secure, we can take it down to Hawking.”

  The loading crew scratches their heads, then leaves. They are totally in the dark about what is in the special crate, but they have their theories.

  John pilots the shuttle from the Terran to Hawking without incident. Once there, he lands near General Walker’s partially built command post. Using a custom built trolley, Walker gently rolls the crate out of the shuttle. He pensively stands before it, almost as if he is too scared to open it.

  John steps from the shuttle and motions to it, “We have a pool running, about what’s in there, you know.”

  Walker grins like a child, “I bought her before I was assigned to the base in Australia.” He slowly shakes his head, “I had her crated, but never got the approval to transport it there.”

  John is perplexed, “If you were unable to get it to Australia, how the heck did you get the okay to bring it here?”

  General Walker smiles, “These pips,” he says, touching his rank insignia. “They have to count for something.” His shy smile widens, “Besides, I told George I needed it.”

  John nods, then says impatiently, “Okay, c’mon, quite teasing. What the heck is it?”

  Walker slides a crowbar out of a slot in the crate’s side, then pries open the lid. Inside the crate, secured by straps to its base, is a black motorcycle. Its paint shines, as does the vast amount of chrome. The front of the bike has a huge batwing, also black, while black leather straps hang from the fenders and floor boards.

  John’s jaw drops, “This is yours?” he says, even though the answer is obvious.

  Walker stares at his pride and joy, “Yes it is, and I have yet to ride her.”

  “I can’t believe you brought a motorcycle to New Earth,” John states, still in shock.

  Walker unclasps the straps, then rolls the bike out into the sunlight. He sits on it, and says, “Well, I asked the folks at the dealership to make sure she was ready to roll.” He chuckles, “It’s not like I can take it back if it doesn’t run.”

  John stares up into the sky, and shakes his head, “I doubt anyone is going to win the pool.”

  Walker pulls in the clutch, selects neutral, then presses the start button. The engine turns over, and starts with loud rumble. It runs rough and choppy for a few seconds, then begins to idle more smoothly. Walker twists the throttle, the loud rumble of its powerful v-twin engine echoes through the valley.

  John stares in total shock at the bike, “It runs,” he says incredulously.

  Walker shuts off the engine and says, “Well, I was told that with its computerized fuel injection system, it should.” He grins with pride, “and they were right.”

  John scratches his chin thoughtfully, and asks doubtfully, “That bike doesn’t run on diesel though, does it?”

  Walker scowls, “Hell no,” then he chuckles.

  John suddenly recalls the fifth and smaller, fuel tank he brought down, “You have your own fuel!”

  Walker stares at John, his expression becomes serious, “I don’t expect to be going back to Earth any time soon, and I want to ride before I get too old.” He steps off his bike, and collects a few more items from the crate. He puts on a heavy leather jacket, straps on a helmet, then says, “I am gonna roll.”

  Before John can respond, Walker restarts the bike, then with twist of his wrist, roars off. As the sound of the engine fades off in the distance, John peeks in the open crate. He grins, then turns to stare after the retreating bike, he h
as brought oil, filters, and even tires, amongst other things. He really does plan to stay here for quite a while.

  As Walker rides through town, people stop what they are doing and stare. Many smile at the sight, while a few scowl at the noise. He rides the bike around town, then fuels up from his personal fuel supply. Tapping the massive tank he smiles, the best engineers on Earth designed it to prevent the fuel inside from getting stale.

  Chapter Eight - Arrival

  Location:

  Starship Liberty

  Open Space

  The voyage from Earth to New Earth, was nerve wracking to say the least. The second the main drive was engaged, the entire ship began to shake. The vibrations steadily worsened as the days turned into weeks. Deck plates shook loose causing the ship to gain a frightening rattling sound throughout. Captain Adams remained adamant that they would not disengage the main drive until they arrived at New Earth. His fear that the Liberty would end up stranded in space, with no way of contacting the Terran, was not unfounded.

  Weeks became months, and still the Liberty continued on. Frightened colonists demanded the ship be stopped, turned around, or any one of a number of impractical suggestions. Eventually, the three members of the command crew became so inundated with demands from aggravated passengers, they began to spend more and more time on the Liberty’s small bridge. With the ship’s systems on automatic, all they could do was watch a countdown timer which displayed how long it would be until they arrived at New Earth.

  Repair crews became busier and busier, as the Liberty shook herself apart. In the third month, a hull breach was reported by the ship’s pressure monitoring systems. It took almost four days for crews in spacesuits to seal the leak. By the time they were done, another was reported, then another. Adams assigned two people per space suit, then three, in his efforts to maintain around the clock repairs.

  Finally, the day that everyone has been anxiously awaiting, arrives.

  Captain Adams stares intently at the vibrating countdown timer; the days read zero, as do the hours. He smiles at Kennedy and Frank, then rubs the rough stubble on his chin. Six days earlier, the ship’s main water tank ruptured, adding to everyone’s distress. The imposed water rations have meant that no one has showered or shaved since then. The entire ship stinks of unwashed human bodies and stagnant water. For reasons unknown, the Liberty only had one spare set of filters for the life support systems, and these are proving to be less than effective. As for the water, there was literally nowhere for it go, but down. Much of lower level is now knee deep in the putrid liquid, the top of which, has a murky layer of oily scum. Adams almost wishes for a hull breach there, just to get rid of what is fast becoming a health risk.

  Adams shakes his head clear. The countdown reads eight minutes. He address Frank, “Inform the crew that the main drive will be disengaging in a matter of minutes,” he swallows hard and adds, “and tell them to hang on.”

  Adams rubs his stubble once more, and wonders what will happen when the main drive is shut down. The three men have discussed this moment many times, but they only have theories. Adams reflects on Joe’s visit, he told me that the Terran suffered its greatest damage when decelerating to sub-light speeds. He is grateful for Joe’s feedback; it has allowed them put a few contingency plans into place.

  Adams buckles his crossover seatbelt. Kennedy and Frank glance at each other, and quickly follow suit. Through rattling teeth, Adams says, “Let the automatics disengage the main drive, then prepare to make course corrections as needed.”

  If it were not for the Gamin computer systems aboard the Terran, plotting an exact path to New Earth would have been virtually impossible. The engineers who built the Liberty decided that the ship would only require human intervention to override the pre-programmed shut down. Thus even if the crew died, the ship would still stop, and if all the calculations were correct, the Liberty would be close to New Earth.

  Kennedy lifts a small flap on his console and waits. The sub-light engine controller does, however, require someone to activate it. He places a hand on the switch and says, “I will activate the sub-light engines as soon as the board is green.”

  Adams enables the ship wide communications, and announces “To all hands, this is your captain speaking. In less than two minutes, we will be arriving at New Earth. I expect this to be a rough ride people. Repair crews stand by.”

  Frank glances at Adams with concern on his face. Until they reduce to speeds slower than light, they will not know exactly where they are. The Liberty’s onboard telemetry systems have proven useless, thus they have been unable to get an exact fix on their location. If their flight path is off by even by a fraction of a degree, they could find themselves a long way off target.

  “Ten... Nine...” Kennedy’s voice seems especially loud as he sounds out the countdown. “Three... Two... One...”

  Liberty’s systems shut down the main drive, dropping her almost instantly to sub-light speeds. Everyone on board is suddenly and violently thrown forward. A ripple begins at the front of the ship, and almost like a wave, rolls down its outer hull. Adams stares transfixed at the screen before him. Hull plates buckle and bend, some are forcefully ejected from the ship. Alarms sound, each one indicating a new system failure or hull breach.

  Inside the Liberty, things are fairing no better. Deck plating also buckles and bends as the ship’s systems are too slow to compensate for the speed change. The phenomenon travels through the ship toward the bridge area. Adams grips his armrests in fear as he watches the shockwave approach. Damn, he thinks, Joe said they had some minor buckling, but this is insane. The forward view screen shatters, suddenly cutting off his thoughts, and showers everyone with chunks of safety glass. Almost immediately, Kennedy, Frank, and Adams, are roughly jostled as the very deck beneath their feet lifts, then drops.

  Bulkheads throughout the ship close, or attempt to. The ship’s structure is so badly damaged in places that many of these protective bulkheads are either unable to move, or do so ineffectively. Fortunately, most of the bulkheads closest to the outer hull were sealed months ago.

  From the outside of the ship, things look even worse. Gas vents from numerous places, while the ship itself, seems almost twisted. The water trapped in the lower decks vents forcefully into space through hundreds of tiny fractures, adding to the macabre scene.

  Kennedy shouts over the din, “Activating sub-light engines.”

  Frank is also busy, he flips a series of switches on his own panel, then says loudly, “Liberty calling Terran, we have arrived, and are in need of immediate assistance.”

  Adams cannot believe the noise the ship is making, as the flexing metal creaks and groans. He stares at the useless screen before him, wipes blood from his forehead where he is cut, then says with urgency, “Where the hell are we?”

  Kennedy turns to Adams, fear on his face, “We’re close to a planet, too close. Damn, we’re caught in its gravity well. I think it’s New Earth, but I can’t be sure.”

  Kennedy engages the Liberty’s thrusters, while he frantically attempts to use the sub-light engines to bank them away from the impending collision. The end result is a horrendous noise from somewhere aft of the bridge; the ship’s twisted frame buckles even further.

  A new alarm suddenly blares on the bridge. Frank stares at his console, mortified for a few seconds before declaring, “The hull is so badly compromised we can’t maintain atmospheric pressure.”

  Adams issues his orders, “Take us down, we don’t have a choice!”

  Kennedy does his best to level the ship, then shuts off the sub-light engines. He activates the ship’s gravity drive, and immediately feels a renewed series of vibrations emanating from below his feet. He glances nervously at Frank while he continues to apply power to the thrusters in a vain attempt to slow their descent.

  Suddenly the speakers on the ship crackle, “Liberty, this is New Earth Colony, we stand by to assist, sending landing co-ordinates.”

  Adams frowns, “
Landing co-ordinates? I guess they can see us coming in.”

  Kennedy stares at his console, “We need a reference point. I’m flying blind right now.” He stares at his controls, then slams his fist onto a small screen that is filled with static. Miraculously, the screen clears, providing him with a view of their outside world.

  Plummeting through the atmosphere, the Liberty’s outer hull heats up, then begins to glow in patches. Clouds part as the ship swiftly continues downward, almost in a freefall. Overstressed outer hull plates peel off, leaving a glowing debris trail behind them.

  Kennedy suddenly cheers, “I’ve got this beast now, plus I have the colony’s beacon on our scanners!”

  The Liberty’s descent becomes less meteoric, and more controlled, as the combination of thrusters and gravity plating begins to slow them down. Inside the ship, repair crews have not had a chance to tackle any of the countless number of problems.

  Even though the vibrations through the deck plates become more pronounced, Kennedy cheers again, “Swinging us around, E.T.A. at the colony, five minutes.”

  Frank puts on his headset, then listens intently. After a few minutes he nods, then turns to Adams, “Emma wants us to put down in a field just outside the settlement’s perimeter.”

  Adams glances at the useless screen, “It would be good if we could see where we’re going.”

  Kennedy, though busy piloting the ship, says, “I have a small view-screen here, but it’s quite limited.”

  The Liberty’s thrusters scream horrendously in the atmosphere, they are being taxed well beyond their operating tolerances, yet continue to slow the Liberty’s descent. Glowing hull plates continue to peel off and join the diminishing trail of water and air that still leaks from the crippled ship. Kennedy engages the ship’s landing struts, which extend downward, then lock into place. Miraculously they seem undamaged. Two minutes later the Liberty touches down, the landing pads sink deeply into the soil. Without delay, Kennedy opens the main loading ramp, unintentionally releasing the last remnants of putrid water, along with a pile of floating debris.