Spitting dirt out of his mouth, Ben yelled, “Let’s get out of here!”
Like white streaks in the night, the lovers ran out of the tent, tripping and falling as another bolt of lightning hit their vacated tent. They had tripped over a massive branch, which had actually saved their lives; lightning hits whatever sticks up the highest, and their standing forms would have made perfect human targets.
The split oak tree was on fire, and the fabric of the tent was incinerated, its melted nylon stink in the air. The flickering fires broke the darkness in an eerie pattern; charred woody masses lay scattered around, and the two huddled forms remained frozen, clinging to each other. Nowhere seemed safe, and so they didn’t move. The lightning continued to crack, and they counted silently as the storm moved on.
Soon, the rain stopped and the wind died down. The burning flames stopped slanting from the wind and burned upright like candles.
“It’s beautiful,” Susanna said reverently.
“We almost died tonight,” said Ben.
Like so often happened on Earth, going from one extreme was balanced by an opposite, and their near-death experience resulted in them making love. Having felt the cool chill of death tickle their spine, they made love deeply and passionately. It was a celebration of a man and a woman passing on their lineage in the most intimate way.
The glow from the burning remains of the tree bathed their bodies in light and shimmering shadows; it was like they were trapped in a magical spell. Neither spoke for fear it wasn’treal.
Wrapping his arms around her, Ben cradled Susanna’s body to his, and their shared heat radiated off of each other. Whispering quietly into her ear, he asked, “Will you marry me?”
*
Susanna stirred. She reached for Libby, but her daughter wasn’t there. “Where are you, baby?”
Getting up out of her bunk, Susanna frantically searched for her daughter with a panic all women experience when unexpectedly separated from their young. It wasn’t till she got to Med Bay that the anxious knot in her stomach went away.
Looking into the infant pod, she saw her Libby wedged between the two cats. Touching the protective hood with her fingertips to open it, she reached in and pulled Libby out. Both cats awakened and stared up at her.
“Come on, guys. Let’s go to bed.” Walking to her quarters, Susanna was followed by the cats. It wasn’t long before the little group was back in the bunk, fast asleep.
Susanna soon rejoined Ben. It was only here in sleep that she could touch, feel, and hear her husband. She rarely remembered her dreams, but her subconscious was calmed by their interactions.
Waking up the next morning, the tent was damp and humid from the rain, but the man sleeping beside her was warm, and his breathing made her feel safe.
“I will marry you,” she whispered.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Connie was asleep on the Roost. She had tried to stay awake and be ever vigilant, but after thirty-six hours without sleep, she had floated up into the captain’s chair. Her chest rose and fell to the rate of her audible snoring.
“How long has she been out?” whispered Kriss.
“About twenty minutes, sir. She hasn’t eaten anything or even gone to the bathroom in the last twenty-four hours,” said Smitty.
“Go have Spuds whip her up something to eat.”
“But it’s three a.m., sir. Everyone is asleep.”
“Wake her up if you have to. We have to take care of Connie. Without her, we won’t make it to Alpha-64. Bring some coffee and make it black. We are close now, and there is no margin for another error. We need her fed and fully functional.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll be back ASAP,” said Smitty with urgency.
Twenty minutes later, Connie opened her bloodshot eyes to see Captain Kriss’s hand on her shoulder.
“Wake up, Commander. We need you,” said the captain in a gentle voice.
Inclining the chair, Connie sat up and accepted the large zero-G coffee cup Smitty handed her. It was an ingenious design that wicked the liquid up into the astronaut’s mouth. It meant the luxury of drinking coffee out of an actual cup and not a plastic bag. The coffee was black, but Spuds had sweetened it heavily with honey from the garden.
Unbuckling herself from the Roost, Connie descended back down to her position at the forward telescope’s monitor. Once there, she ran some computer tests, checking their current trajectory.
“Captain, on my mark, we will begin to throttle back the engines,” said Connie.
Kriss had already seated herself back on the Roost. Deftly, she slipped her hands into the navigation mitts. The tips of her fingers found the cutout sections and made contact with the buttons. With a light pressure, she keyed in the access code to the ship’s main computer and gained visual confirmation that she was accepted. The large suspended hologram hanging overhead began to pulsate around the image of the ship, indicating the ship was ready for manual override by the captain.
“Ready, on your mark,” said Kriss.
“T minus five minutes, beginning now.”
A digital clock began counting down on Connie’s monitor. An audible computerized voice matched the clock so that the crew in Command could hear the countdown.
“When I say to throttle back, cut the power to all the engines,” said Connie.
“Roger that,” said Kriss.
Command went silent. Everyone knew that this was a critical maneuver. The ship was about 38,000 miles from Alpha-64, and about to attempt to enter the gravitational orbit of the planet. One second too late and they could overshoot the proper orbit of A-64. One second too early, and they would not reach the orbit. It wasn’t like they were driving a school bus, where an error meant a student had to walk a little farther to get home. Traveling at the speed of light meant you might never get home.
The computerized voice was sterile, and its lack of emotion made the tension worse. A machine doesn’t care if you live or die.
Masking her nerves, Connie counted down in sync with the computer. “Now!”
Kriss’s fingers danced out a practiced pattern simulated many times prior to launch, and the ship went silent as all sixteen electromagnetic pulse engines stopped at exactly the same time. It was an eerie sensation felt throughout the entire ship, like how the vibration in your chest is so continuous that you are never aware of it until your heart stops, and then you panic: death is imminent.
Everyone froze. Fear rippled through the crew. Was this the end?
The captain’s voice came over the com. “Attention, everyone. Remain calm. We have just shut down the engines. We are now slowing down to match Alpha-64’s orbit, and will use its gravitational pull to hold us there. You will feel directional rockets over the next several days until we are in a perfect orbit, so don’t be alarmed. Captain out.”
“Okay, Captain, get ready to start putting the brakes on,” said Connie. “Start the forward rockets for a thirty-second burn at a quarter impulse.”
Feverishly, the captain’s fingers pressed the mitted buttons, but nothing happened. “They’re not working!”
“Activate again!” barked the chief science officer.
Kriss reentered the rocket activation codes, but the engines remained silent.
Without hesitation, Connie yelled, “Restart main engines one through four at maximum thrust. Now!”
Without questioning her commander’s orders, Kriss obeyed. The effect was violent. The ship pitched nose up, and the crew lost all sensations of zero gravity as they were slammed down to the floor.
“Steady, steady! Maintain maximum throttle and don’t cut them back until I say so!” said Connie.
Kriss’s hands slipped out of the command mitts, slippery with sweat. It was all she could do to force them back in with the incredible g-forces pulling on her small body. The hanging overhead hologram showed the
ship had flown past Alpha-64. It appeared that all was lost, but slowly the ship curved upwards like the tip of an alpine ski until the ship arced back around. The planet hung in the center of the hologram, and the combined thrust of the four electromagnetic pulse engines pushed the ventral side of the ship, stopping the forward motion. The ship wasn’t any closer to Alpha-64, but it wasn’t moving farther away, either.
“Cut the engines!” cried Connie.
A cheer went up from everyone in Command.
“Good job, Connie,” barked Kriss. “Now get my damn forward navigational rockets repaired.”
The com sputtered with static, and then Connie’s voice clearly said, “Merc, come to Command and bring the ship’s electronic blueprints.”
Within a few minutes, Merc appeared, and together she and Connie scoured the ship’s detailed schematics. It was a massive amount of material to decipher, but both women were highly trained, and soon honed in on the ship’s thrusters.
“That orifice must be plugged up or frozen,” said Connie.
“Either that or the drain valves have failed to cycle open and didn’t release the liquid nitrous oxide to the combustion chamber,” said Merc. “Computer, reactivate the valves on the forward thrusters.”
The monitor showed the valves opening and closing and flashed “Complete.”
“They appear to have cycled open and closed, and then opened again,” said Connie. “Captain, attempt a short burn on my mark.”
Kriss coded in the command sequence. Nothing happened.
“Computer, reactivate the valves,” said Merc.
“Okay, Captain, try this one more time,” said Connie. “Now!” she yelled.
Again, Kriss attempted to fire the thrusters, but they remained silent.
“It must be something to do with the orifice,” said Merc. “The computer indicates the valves are open.”
“I want every wire traced and every circuit checked from the computer here in Command to the thrusters. You are in charge of that, Merc. Use your engineers, and make sure everything is followed from the blueprint. I’ll make sure it’s not a software problem in the ship’s mainframe computers,” said Connie.
“Roger that,” said Merc.
For the next several hours, Engineering removed all access panels and traced the intricate wiring of the ship; it was a nightmare. Thousands of miles of wire coursed through the ship, like an elongated mass of spaghetti plugging the electronic superhighways. Every circuit had to be tested and retested and then checked off of the blueprint as being okay. It was exhausting work, and the crew was cycled in four-hour shifts to keep everyone fresh and alert. Connie insisted on being the only one who tested the software; she had written most of it when the ship was built, so she understood the ship’s intricate brain better than anyone on board.
But her lack of sleep didn’t help. She was about to take a break when the com hissed to life.
“Connie, meet me in the nose of Command!” yelled Merc.
Scrambling from behind the monitor, Connie kicked off towards the ceiling of the Command bridge. A human-size access panel was open, and Connie climbed in and pulled her way up into the opening. It was a claustrophobic tunnel lined with wires and cables, and from an engineering standpoint, it looked like an organized jungle. One side of the tunnel had metal handholds similar to those found on a climbing wall, and it was these that Connie used to pull herself along. It took her several minutes to pull herself up to where Merc was perched, a handheld LED light in her mouth aiming at where her hands were working to separate a mass of serpentine wires.
The chief science officer focused her eyes on the illuminated wires and the handheld blueprint monitor strapped to Merc’s wrist. Connie tapped the LED screen and magnified the image. As it came into focus, Connie said, “I’ll be damned. They’re reversed.”
Taking the light out of Merc’s mouth, Connie allowed the engineering commander to speak.
“These wires are inverted. They go to the heating mechanism that keeps the thrusters’ orifices from freezing shut. That’s why our thrusters won’t work. They’re frozen.”
“Damn good work, Merc. Cut the wires and resolder them. I’ll go tell the captain.”
Twenty minutes later, the job was done, and Connie told Kriss to retry firing the forward thrusters.
“On my mark,” said Connie. The thrusters fired. “Steady, I want a thirty-second burn. Coming up to five seconds, four seconds, three seconds, two seconds. Stop the burn now!”
The overhead hologram showed the effects of the thrusters as the image of the ship shifted slightly towards Alpha-64.
Everyone in Command cheered in nervous relief.
“Good job, everyone!” yelled Kriss. “I’m damn proud of you.”
Connie programmed the main computer and rechecked calculation after calculation until she was satisfied.
“Captain, with your permission I’m retreating to my quarters to get some shut-eye. I have the ship’s navigational computer programmed to slow the ship down over the next several days and get us in a stable orbit about two hundred and fifty nautical miles above the surface of Alpha-64. From there, we can safely avoid the planet’s atmosphere and deploy the drone to study the planet.”
“Dismissed,” said Kriss. “I’ll stay on the Roost and double-check everything to keep that damn computer honest.”
Connie didn’t go to her quarters at first; instead she headed to Med Bay. She needed to calm her ragged nerves. Slipping behind the fume hood, she opened up her hiding place and rolled a big, fat joint. Closing the concealed door, she started the fume hood, lit the joint, and inhaled a lungful of its sweet, relaxing air.
Connie felt pride in her recent achievements. So far they had overcome every unexpected hurdle the expedition had thrown at the crew. The sooner they got the ship on the ground, the better. Sooner or later, there was bound to be one hurdle they couldn’t clear.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
The buzz in the air was infectious. Everyone on board was talking, and the excitement of finally being so close to their new host planet was overwhelming. The almost two-year-long trip had been long and dark and filled with peril, but the end was near. Some cried, some cheered, but the feeling was unanimous: they all felt hope.
Earth was gone, a haunted shade of the past, but Alpha-64 was new and fresh and alive with the possibilities of a future. Like explorers on Earth, the pioneer spirit was still in the crew’s DNA.
Even though their new home might not be conducive to supporting human life, they still were going to give it a try. They had no choice. Unlike Earth’s early pioneers who could turn around and go back, the crew couldn’t. They had no home to return to.
Connie had done a good job programming the ship’s main navigational computer, and the repaired thrusters worked flawlessly; the ship was in a nice stable orbit with their new exoplanet. Alpha-64 had a much stronger gravitational pull than Earth, and it kept the ship in a perfect elliptical orbit that required minor use of the thrusters to keep the ship out of the drag of the planet’s atmosphere. The ship was traveling at about twenty thousand miles per hour, making a complete orbit around the planet every ninety minutes.
The crew was in awe of the view. Unlike Earth, which had been a beautiful blue planet suspended in a sea of blackness, Alpha-64 was a bright green. It looked like a giant orb of early-growth fescue grass.
“Why is it green and not blue?” asked a crew woman.
“I don’t know,” another responded.
“Why can’t we see any landmasses?” another woman exclaimed.
“Beats me.”
“It looks like heaven,” someone else exclaimed.
Anything looks better than black empty space.
The heat of both suns radiated off the side of the ship. As the elliptical orbit brought the ship closer, this heat could be felt through the t
hick aluminumosilicate glass of the observation windows. Even here, light-years away in space, their destination planet had the same greenhouse effect as Earth, which melted the long winter of space travel away. Each orbit around the planet bathed the crew with vitamin D, which in turn improved their mental health. Everyone was revitalized and motivated to carry on.
Even Leea was allowed out of the Hole under an armed escort and allowed to sunbathe, but only while the rest of the crew slept. Kriss wanted minimal interaction between the prisoner and the rest of the crew.
Merc and Sophi readied the drone, but there was a major problem: the airlock had, of course, been welded shut. After a brainstorming session with Connie, the trio decided to make a new launch port in the ship’s hull. A suitable computer model was designed, and they carefully welded a blast plate onto the inside of the hull. But first the hull had to have the area stripped of everything already mounted on it, from heating and cooling ducts to basic wiring. It took time, but soon a sufficient section was cleared.
A blast plate was a complex explosive device. Too large an explosion could be catastrophic and fracture the hull. If, on the other hand, the explosion was too weak, the hull wouldn’t be able to allow the drone to exit the ship, which would result in failure.
The drone was six feet across, and they made the blast plate exactly that same dimension. As a safeguard, they welded the new section around the blast plate an additional twelve inches on all sides. Once the rectangular tunnel was welded around the blast plate to the hull, it looked like an open-ended box.
Carefully, they picked up the drone and placed it into the circular titanium reentry capsule. Snapping the lid shut, they shoved the pod into the rectangular open-ended tunnel. Four crew women then picked up the steel plate to be welded over the open end of the tunnel. This was difficult, as it had a large leaflike spring that had to be collapsed by pressure in order for the end plate to hit flush with the tunnel opening. In weightlessness it was all they could do to hold it flush, but they did, and Merc efficiently welded it shut.
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