But why did they need so many machines? What were they going to use all those excavators and trucks for? Were we actually going to build a small, but economically powerful town? I still had no clue about their intentions. But I felt I was getting closer to the answers with every step I took. That same main aisle seemed to have no end and the equipment, the staff, the whooshing trays and all the other things that were piled up on top of each other and took away from its size made it impossible to see farther than 200 feet in each direction. I had covered what looked like a half of the length; I even walked past the opening that made the connection between the Cosmos and the space manipulator. It was the dividing axis; it hung down from the ceiling and separated the aisle in two just like the bed of a small river circumscribes a lonely island and the line came across as a century-old tree that had sprung up on the island. Everything had been well thought-of in advance and every inch of space had been put to good use. Something of an impressive size and somewhat sinister looking could be seen a little farther than the overhanging pipe. It was a titanic foundry. Yes, that is right, you could process all types of ore and mineral resources in it. There were hundreds of furnaces ready to cast iron and make new machines, batteries or components. The abilities of that small enterprise ranged from the creation of the tiniest cable to the construction of machine components and even entire chassis for the excavators and the cranes.
When I finally found myself in immediate vicinity to that modern installation I got a real feel of how large it actually was. The aisle down which I was walking even went underneath one of the main furnaces. The engineers were making final inspection on them before they were to turn them on a few hours later. I could not believe how well prepared we actually were. My calculations showed that the gigantic fire breathing machine was going to take its first bite of Menoetian ore within the first hours of our arrival. Really incredible, the entire organization was high level. In any case it was apparently a matter of life and death . . . After I took a good look of the foundry, I went ahead. This time I did not have to walk long before I saw with my own two eyes the mobile drilling platform everyone spoke so passionately about. It was extremely complex, too. Its legs could be both accommodated to stand on dry land and on the aquatic bottom in shallow waters. That megastructure had an entire refinery for producing fuel and lubricants aboard. Some important petroleum products, such as plastic, paint and varnish which were hard to find on Earth in recent years could now be produced here. Was that real at all? Sometimes I got considerably confused while I was touring around that industrial estate. Was that a dream? I did not know. Only those who could see it from the inside would believe how monstrous the size of American Pride was . . .
In the end of my walk around the largest barn that had full twenty sealed exits, leading out of the ship; I saw a warning “Entry Forbidden” sign, there was a “Botanic Laboratory and Garden” in small print above. Probably that was the place where the first plants and seeds to be plated on Menoetian soil were going to be produced, thus laying the foundations of the vitally important farming that was to feed us all. That was just as hard as getting there safe and sound and settling on that planet . . .
In those few days I managed to see many things and get a sense of what they were–premises, corridors, engines, service machines and even the large metallurgical complex under us. Time, though, flew by imperceptibly, maybe due to the fact that I managed to fill my days with something or maybe because of my unquenchable curiosity that drove me to roam around the ship. I glanced at the clock above my head that was measuring the “illusion” of the past hours of the journey, taking the arrival in Menoetius’s orbit as a vantage point. Yes, we were only an hour and twenty minutes away from the fateful moment. I was somewhat enthusiastic, but there were people who were thrilled and who were even quivering with anticipation. They had thronged behind the enormous ramp door at the bow that let us onto the ship when we first saw it. I did not want to have to shove my way ahead through the crowd; I just waited for the moment where after we landed I would be able to go out peacefully. I needed to feel our new home, I wanted to not simply see it, but to soak it in with all of my senses. So I rushed back to the room where I had set my luggage to check if it was still there. There was no one there and the household belongings of the people I shared the room with were left unattended. They had left them behind just so they could flock to the multitude in front of the gate. The waiting passengers had the opportunity of seeing the image of the planet projected onto a special wall, but what mattered most to some people was who was going to be the lucky one to first set foot on the New Land. It was a real feast that had to be celebrated for sure. My luggage was sitting in the very place where I had put it and after I made sure that nothing had been stolen, I headed to a place I had spotted earlier on. One of the middle decks extended almost over the entire length of the ship where instead of the typical coating of metals and alloys there was a completely transparent wall. Interesting design of the body; maybe the engineers needed places with direct visibility outside, or it could be that the main designer wanted his home to have nice windows. I did not find out exactly why they had made it that way, but I was happy it was there. When I got there I was pleasantly surprised by the absence of people, for if there were any, they would have prevented me from observing what was going on outside. A little before the clock said we had seventeen minutes to arrival, men in white coats and with helmets on their heads started coming–maybe they were part of the maintenance team. But whoever they were, they did not grow significantly in numbers despite the plentiful of passengers and staff members who piled up to get better places at the front.
The final seconds dragged on for so long that it felt like they paused for a break every now then. It was a normal thing to do, we all bated our breaths when the last second became zero, we even stopped moving and talking. But nothing happened. The noughts on the panel did not move, indicating the end of the supposed flight, and obviously something was not quite right. I got really worried in the next two minutes and it was not just me; no one gave us any information as to what was happening. Was the flight coming to an end or were we going to remain stuck in spacetime? Was it possible that it was some dire mistake on the part of the pilots? Passengers and members of the crew got profoundly scared and started going into panic attacks, a mass hysteria seized a good part of the people there. A terrible commotion broke out. Fear, rage, fury, panic and terror began possessing us, transforming us into flippant freaks and brainless beasts locked up in a cage. Suddenly the body of the ship started shaking strongly. As though we were caught up in an earthquake that bended and twisted the metal giant in different directions. The horror we experienced skyrocketed to the utter limit. We suddenly squatted down and grabbed one another by the hands; and it was not just us here–the groups of passengers everywhere on board the ship did so, too. An intertwined human chain of hands that had no beginning and no end. That was such a powerful moment, a test for our faith irrespective of whether we were Christians, Muslims or atheists, the head of every single one of us had dropped to our knees. For the first time I saw how united and tight-knit the human kind could be. Less than a minute later the quakes stopped and the all-encompassing space balloon slowly unfolded from the bow to the stern like a satin blanket that dropped down on its own.
Incredible! If you look at it from outside, you would think that it was the people who did that. Our collective faith in success seemed to have echoed throughout the Universe and it was as though it managed to help the pilots do the miracle. Or it was just that the turn of events unfolded in our favor, leaving us alive for a little while longer. It did not matter much to me because at that moment American Pride arrived close to Menoetius which still looked small like a distant blue moon. When our eyes first fell on the planet, exultant, joyous cries filled the air on board. The best was yet to happen. The culmination of our journey was our getting to know that new world. Our savior! So much did it look like the Earth! Deep sea blue dominat
ed the surface, sprinkles of light green and yellow hues blobbed here and there, outlining the contours of the land. The continents seemed to be scattered without clear boundaries between them, much like what we had back on our home planet.
But Menoetius was different. Its beauty lied in its gigantic size. The Earth-like titan grew larger and larger with every few feet that we got closer. It gleamed, reflecting much of the light that the two suns threw at it. A halo of light formed around the two poles and their icy sheets. Our new home popped up out of the blue like an angel in the dark. The sight was so amazing and humbling that I did not hear anyone utter a single word; all I saw were the smiley faces of people on the brink of breaking out into tears of joy. At that moment I felt proud and grateful for everything. We really arrived safe and sound in the blackness of the alien stellar system. Our ship approached the planet and almost made a full circle around it until the five metal birds regrouped. Some miles away I spotted the lights of the other ships. Everything that was left of our civilization was ready to enter the atmosphere of the newly-discovered planet.
“To everyone on board American Pride: we’re about to touch down. Please, remain calm as the ship goes through the normal disturbances upon entry into the aerial environment of the planet,“ the loudspeakers announced. Most of the passengers sat down, the rest leaned on the walls and the corners, trying to gain some stability. I did not move, nor did the men in white coats and helmets who were keeping me company as I was looking out the window. Suddenly the steel traveller changed its course along with the other spacecraft from the stellar armada. We flew head-on towards the surface of the colossal planet. Shortly after, we started shaking as though we were in the middle of turbulence. The outer layer of the coating became white hot and caught fire, creating a plethora of colors right in front of our eyes that danced horizontally on its transparent gloss at unfathomable speed. Red, yellow and blue alternated like a hot stream of plasmic lines extending from the bow all the way up to the stern. The shaking had increased over the last few seconds and inevitably induced the all too familiar sense of fear yet another time. The vibrations were so strong that I thought the window in front of me would break and the colors would drift in and become one with my body, burning me to ashes. In a matter of seconds the colors disappeared and the human meteorite we were in was reduced to flying at supersonic speed. Now I could see the opaque clouds we were going through at that very moment, but something happened right then. Light a strong as a thousand suns blinded me. I shielded my eyes with both my hands, but it was so bright that I even saw the bones of my hands as though I was watching an X-ray picture. What had happened? Had something blown up in the atmosphere? Was it possible that we might have been about to suffer the same fate? The adrenaline sent powerful shakes down my body, more powerful than those the disturbances had. The image cleared and a few dozen miles away from us a gigantic fire ball exploded–it was one of our spaceships. It burst into parts that scattered in the space around and what was left of it fell on the ground. I dropped to my knees behind the transparent glass case and the ball in the distance grew larger and larger and it seemed to be about to engulf us. We were almost dead . . . For my part, I could tell that my body prepared to depart that realm. A lump lodged in my throat, chills ran down my scalp and my neck, I closed my eyes and grabbed hold of the banister. I clasped my hands around it so tightly that the sharp outward edge pierced the flesh of the ball of my hand and a tiny stream trickled down as I expected my every breath to be the last one I would ever take . . . But nothing like that happened. Thousands of people shrieked and prayed, hearts at their heels, for that horror to end. At that moment we veered off and changed the speed so as to get to a safe distance from the blast. The shock wave hit us hard, sending us into temporary deafness. I felt American Pride move sideways, getting pushed a little off course for a second or two. When that finished, we started floating freely and the red signal lights which were on, warning us for a potential danger when entering the atmosphere, got switched off. I think that at that moment I finally took in a gulp of air. A gulp so pure, incomparable and coveted that I would only compare it to the first breath I had ever taken, the one my life started with. I felt like I was not myself, but somebody else instead. A wave of blissful peacefulness washed over me after the massive dose of adrenaline which was so potent that I could not even recall some of the moments that had happened before. I raised my head and saw the refulgence of the day spilling into the ship through the window and illuminating everything inside. I stood up, a little blinded, but, oh, how joyous I was to finally see the beautiful light I missed so much over the previous three days. My eyes started to grow accustomed to it and I finally saw Menoetius in its full splendor. It was unbelievable just how strongly it resembled the last corners of the Earth that had still remained intact! Beautiful wide meadows, thick tall forests with multicolored vegetation, large crags, high mountains and the ocean–that infinite water pool extended over immeasurable territories. It did look like our planet, only everything was much greater in scale than what our perceptions were used to.
While we were drifting slowly above the surface, we slowed down and almost halted, hovering about two miles over the land, a little beneath the powerful gusts of wind that lured after themselves black lightning-lit thunderclouds. But had happened earlier on? Had the “unbeatable armada” retained its initial numbers? All that mattered now was for us to land on solid ground. But we needed to wait a bit more for that to happen and our impatience was as great as that of a child waiting for its Christmas present. In the previous half an hour nothing happened, we just stood in one place. Maybe the crew was carrying out an analysis and an assessment of the harmful gases or perhaps they were waiting for orders or more information and directions. There was no way for me to know, but with a little patience that came to pass, too. We were moving again and with a right turn we circled back and I saw two more aircraft. One was headed towards the distant ocean shores and the other was preparing to land near the site of the incident; that made me fear what was to come. One of the metal birds had burnt in the atmosphere and the ground beneath it was consumed by gargantuan flames. I did not want to believe my eyes. Hundreds of thousands of people had perished in a single moment in time. But why? Was it some kind of a system failure, a terrorist act or some other evil power completely unfamiliar to us? Despite the sadness that I felt, I was happy that I lived to take another breath unlike the burning wretched souls down there. It was a ghastly sight to watch, but we flew past it since a rescue operation had already been launched.
American Pride did not go in the direction of the ocean, but plotted a course towards the place where were supposed to touch down according to the initial plan. We flew past a ship that had landed on top of a thousand-foot high plateau in the distance. It had tall vertical rocky slopes from three sides and the fourth side was a slope that ended in a forest. An exquisite mountain formation set against the background of the forestall flora. Then we kept moving ahead for about ten more miles until the flat plateau merged with the horizon. Perhaps that was some strategy to set the gigantic machines at even spaces from one another. I could only guess. We went so far that the metal birds started to look like children’s toys in the distance. Then suddenly the familiar voice came out of the loudspeakers. “We’re asking the passengers and the crew to prepare for landing!” I expected the ship to initiate an immediate descent since we were still high up–about 1,600 feet. The trees looked like they were tiny sticks stuck in the green grassy blanket. At that instant, as I was admiring the landscape around us, out of nowhere, four powerful explosions set on fire everything in our vicinity. They flared up beneath us and were obviously set off by us. It looked like a thermobaric weapon or the so called fuel-air bomb. I could recognize it because some time ago I did a reporting on how dangerous can conventional weapons be. The area beneath us was swept by fire, it looked as though a small comet had exploded over it. The high temperature made the trees turn to ashes. The lunar landscape w
as appropriate enough at that moment for the ship to land and show the true capabilities of the spacecraft’s arsenal. That, in my opinion, was a plan bordering insanity. Despite the necessity for strategic positioning we should not have started out that way. How sad it was that our setting foot on this planet had to begin with fire and death. What were we going to get in return?
We finally descended and I felt like I was in a vertically moving elevator. The floor gave a powerful shake and Her Steel Majesty seemed to have come down. Gusts of smoke coming from the burnt trees and the soil filled the air. The anti-fire system went on and started sprinkling carbon dioxide under and around us so as to put out the fire by creating a mist. Less than five minutes later the cargo bay doors opened and APCs and tanks with soldiers rolled down like small automaton toys along with a heap of identically looking trucks, carrying large square panels. They looked like parts of a fence that needed to be assembled. The interesting part was that you could not see a single civilian out there and while the soldiers were taking their positions, some of the fence parts were already pieced together. The trucks carrying the panels had cranes installed and started arranging the panels vertically. The service machines came into play and started welding together the panels in a specific manner so as to secure the solidity of the fence. In a matter of ten minutes the machines build a shield around the ship in the form of an ellipsis. I did not get it whether we were defending ourselves against something or it was just a precaution measure. Still the fence was rather high and solid. At the same time rocket launchers and machine gun nests were set around the ship just as if we were preparing for a war. I bated my breath, contemplating the human kind taking over a tract of land on a foreign planet. After about ten minutes the commander-in-chief announced through the loudspeakers that the conditions outside were fit for maintaining human life and that for the time being there was no threat for us. They decided to open the portholes and to let the most impatient passengers walk out and get a sniff of the new planet, of our new home which was a little charred now. I saw though the window how a group of people poured onto the ground. The weirdest part was that there were some who started bowing and performing different religious rituals. I recognized the religious fanatics right away–they were probably going to stich up something new to write into the Bible or the Quran or they could well introduce a new deity. At that stage that was fairly possible. Some of the people screamed with happiness, they rejoiced over the outcome and even started celebrating. For a few minutes we furnished ourselves with a religious group and a celebration group that marked our new beginning even though they were all scattered around the massive crowd that now surrounded the ship. Maybe that was indeed an occasion worth celebrating–we were safe and sound after all. I felt it was time I went out, too, so I headed towards the nearest exit.
Dawn of Hope- Exodus Page 40
