On the other side, Martinez dropped his tablet and leapt to his feet, recalling the rest of the crew before he reached the microphone to respond. “What the hell happened? You just dropped the probe.”
“Cryovolcano opened up and flipped the rover. I’m in the clear, but Hassan’s trapped under it.”
“If he’s hurt, stop the bleeding and seal the suit. Waiting on the commander for further instructions.”
Stevenson growled and went for the service box at the back of the rover and tore it open, finding a medical kit and some metallic sealant tape for the suits and habitat. He returned and took a knee beside Hassan. “Hold on, I’ve got you,” he said, trying to reassure the astronaut who was likely bordering on shock.
He braced himself against the rover’s frame and pushed up to no avail; it was too heavy to move by himself. Hassan groaned from the shifting mass as it twisted the remains of his leg. Stevenson cursed under his breath.
There was no jack on the rover; Stevenson knew it was back in the habitat. Something else had to give, break, or get out of the way. He retrieved the entrenching tool from the vehicle’s hood and scraped it along the ground beneath Hassan’s leg to gain what clearance he could find. The ground was as forgiving as asphalt and the going was slow. Air still hissed from the cut, continually spraying a fine red mist across Stevenson’s visor. Everything told him he was running out of time, but panic kept itself far at bay.
“Bro, tomorrow I’ll give you a free hit, but right now I’ve got to get you out of here. Sorry,” he said, and in a sharp movement pressed Hassan’s leg hard into the dirt. The man screamed and thrashed for a moment before dropping silent as Stevenson cleared the sharpened edge of the rover and pulled him free. The interior of Hassan’s suit was a frozen, bloody mess, but he tore the man’s interior uniform aside and wrapped the wound with metallic tape, hoping it’d be enough to stabilize the flow of blood. Quickly, he moved to the outer suit and did the same thing, sealing the tear in several stacked layers of high-powered adhesive.
Blood and ice coated Stevenson’s suit from head to waist. He looked down at the patient and noted the stabile heart rate on his display. He was alive but unconscious, with fifteen miles and a massive geyser of ice between him and the camp. “He’s alive, but there’s no way I’ll be able to move him,” he finally advised over the radio. “I need some help to get him home.”
***
“How the hell did this happen?” Cooper demanded, stalking the flight deck. “Blooding effing, there goes our mission specialist.”
“He’s alive. We just need to get him back here,” Prescott advised.
“Great, and how?” Cooper snapped. “Run out there with a high-lift and some oxygen?” He’ll be effing purple in another twenty minutes if we can’t get him in the habitat and stabilized.”
“Not on foot. What if we take the lander?”
“Have you seen that thing?” Cooper said, pointing out the observation port at the wall of ice rushing up in the distance. “That’s a damned death trap and you know it.”
“I’m not asking, and there’s no other way,” Prescott growled. “Stay behind if you want, but we’re going to get him.”
Cooper ground his teeth. “Right. Do it. Get this over with,” he said and fastened the restraints about his chest. “If we lose it, hit something hard. If you leave me to suffocate, you’re effing done.”
“Noted,” Prescott muttered and tore the lander free of its pad. It listed upward, and he gained altitude quickly. “I’ll have to go by sight,” he said, pitching the ship hard to the side. “The plume’s too big to capture on the landing radar.”
They drifted away from the landing site, heading dead south in order to hook around the closest edge of the barrier. “Come on, come on,” he muttered through a clenched jaw.
“You’re cutting it close,” Martinez warned.
“No other way,” Prescott said, his eyes glued to the tiny window.
The first sign of their proximity came at the tingling of the icy droplets against the lander’s hull. Prescott swore and pulled back, but not quick enough. The mist of water instantly froze on the lander’s skin, packing on weight and pulling it deeper into the plume. In seconds, the added mass overpowered the engines and drove it down.
“…Shit. Pulled us through…” he said and again swung the controls wide to clear the blast. They circled out over the ocean, its shimmering surface reflecting bright beneath them on the unobscured windows.
Prescott managed calmly, “Impact.”
The lander righted but couldn’t control the final stage of the descent. The pads hit first and instantly crumpled under the load, driving the bottom of the capsule hard into the frozen ground. A metallic screech permeated the enclosed space, but the shell kept its integrity. Narrowly avoiding incapacitation, the crew held their positions as the lander groaned to a stop.
Cooper was on his feet first, going for the airlock before he risked pausing and losing the initiative. “Get the supplies and we’re moving. Rest when you’re dead.”
He cycled through the airlock and took in the landscape. They had narrowly missed the ocean, but their lander was now barely holding itself together. The plume of the cryovolcano covered a quarter of the sky, and the overturned rover was nearby, its probes strewn about with a pair of astronauts lying in its shadow.
Martinez followed the commander out and handed over the jack, taking the medical kit in his own hands. He bounded down the ramp and broke into a run to clear the plain.
“Will, raise the captain. If you can’t get us moving, we’ll need a way out,” Cooper ordered before following the medic to the crash.
***
“It’s about time you get over the gaddamned horizon!” Prescott snapped at Adam, who was still fumbling with his seat’s restraints.
“What happened? What do you need?”
“Ground shifted and took the rover out with a cryovolcano. Hassan broke his leg and the lander took a hard fall in the recovery. We’re going to need you to bring the second lander down to get us.”
“Copy that. Where do you need me?”
“Eastern edge of Mayda Island. The volcano’s got us cut off from the habitat, but if they get the rover back up and running, we can push east beyond its range.”
“Understood. I’m detaching the equipment pod and I’m on my way down,” Adam confirmed and plotted his descent through the moon’s atmosphere, aiming for the tiny spur of land beside the methane ocean. Recovering the other half of the ship on the way back out would be interesting, but for the moment, he didn’t give it much thought. Flying was the easy part, compared to the present.
In the grounded lander, Prescott switched off the radio and pulled on his helmet, leaving the tiny deck for the last time. Outside, the rover was upright and moving, with Hassan strapped down to the hood and a few probes and bits of equipment stacked on the back.
“He on his way?” Cooper asked as the navigator approached.
“Yes. Head due east to the coast. Just get us away from the jet and turn on a radio beacon,” he said, climbing on a rear outboard step. “How is he?”
“He’s sealed up and stabilized with plenty of oxygen,” Martinez advised. “I won’t be able to address the break until we get inside.”
“Great,” he mumbled as the lander sped off, gaining a breath of isolation between them and the plume of frost.
Adam was halfway through the atmosphere when he saw the marker appear on his radar, beside a towering mass of crystalized water ice. “No damned wonder they couldn’t fly through that,” he mumbled to himself. He pushed the projected landing site east as instructed, trying to anticipate how far to lead the miniscule transport.
The separation continued to shrink, and Adam brought the lander down lightly on the plain before the rover. He was barely on his feet before the airlock cycled and two of the crew entered, carrying Hassan’s battered form between them. A second later, two more followed before tearing off their masks and gettin
g to work on the fallen astronaut.
Cooper came last, pointing to Adam. “Get us off the ground. They need to get his leg fixed, and that can’t happen during the initial burn.”
Adam nodded and turned back to his controls and dropped the throttle as he had before.
“Careful. Get us clear of the ice,” Prescott warned. “We’re out of chances.”
“I’ve got it,” Adam said, keeping his course steady as they rocketed higher into the atmosphere. He heard the crystals begin to scrape along the outer skin.
“Captain…”
“Don’t worry,” Adam reassured them, easing back to the east and clearing what remained of the towering formation of ice and frozen vapor. Their surroundings turned dark as they escaped beyond Titan’s atmosphere and back into the inviting nothingness of deep space.
***
The flight back to Draco was silent, contentious, and altogether discomforting for everyone involved. Picking up the trailing pod bought them a small amount of breathing space, but it did little to break the tension permeating the cabin of the tiny craft.
Surgery on Hassan was a rushed and messy affair, with Martinez taking the lead to clean the frozen wound, cut away a fair amount of dead flesh, and set the broken bone. With the clean environment, infections were less of a problem, but it would have been for naught had necrosis had a chance to spread farther along the leg. The operation still killed their only unit of synthetic blood, although in the aftermath, Cooper’s body language said he was relieved, even if his words didn’t.
Once complete, Martinez took a seat beside Adam on the flight deck, watching Hassan who was still unconscious on the floor, his leg stitched back up and splinted tight. “That was really close,” he finally said.
“No kidding,” Adam replied, keeping his voice low lest he wake the others in the adjacent room.
“Don’t be fooled; we’d have been dead without you.”
“I’m sure you would have found a way,” he said, trying to reassure the medic.
“No, it was a shit-show down there; you don’t even know,” Martinez replied. “Even if we would have been able to get the lander back on the ground in one piece, we probably wouldn’t have had fuel to get back to orbit. Cooper and Prescott both saw it coming the second we had to move out.”
“You think?”
“Yeah, today there’s no need to sell yourself short. Well done.”
Adam leaned back, watching the dark glimmer of space sail by the windows above his head on the long voyage back to Draco. There was more than a week of nothing to do to look forward to, aside from staying alive and maintaining the course. He let a thin smile trace across his expression, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders as he sank deep into the pilot’s seat. It had been a long time coming, but he considered the day to be a success, an affirmation of his skills as a pilot and crew member.
Well done, indeed.
***
“That’s the final check. The Hydra is ready to fly,” Martinez announced to the assembled crew in the docking pod of Draco Station. They were circled up around the central workbench, the changing of the seasons evident on their faces.
“Well, Captain Montgomery,” Cooper announced, “while I sincerely appreciate your hospitality, I believe it is time for us to be on our way.”
“It’s come far too soon, my friend,” Adam said. “Seriously, I haven’t been this conflicted since the band broke up.”
“You were in a band? Me too; first chair trombone, but these days I’m a little rusty.” Cooper laughed.
“Yes, indeed.” Adam shook his head. “It won’t be the same without you.”
The Hydra’s captain led his team to the airlock. “You’ve performed admirably across the board. I don’t know how you pulled off the gig out here, but the decision was clearly for the best. If it was in my power, I’d write you a commendation myself.”
“Thanks, that means a lot,” Adam said, shaking his hand at the threshold of the hatch.
“Seriously, total MVP right here,” Cooper said again. “You can hold down the whole offensive line with how you know your way around the D, so to speak. We’ve got eight years to chill in the hold before we reach a stable orbit around Uranus. At that time, I expect to hear that you’ve done no less than conquer the system.” Cooper nodded approvingly as he disappeared into the body of the Hydra. Martinez, Hassan, Stevenson, and Prescott followed, saying their brief goodbyes.
Hassan was still leaning heavy on a crutch but otherwise was no worse for the wear. The intensive treatment provided by Draco had already cut months from the normal recover timeline. He looked absolutely exhausted, but an expression of absolute gratitude said more than mere words could have portrayed.
Prescott brought up the rear, briefly staring down the officer-in-charge. He appeared internally conflicted but begrudgingly stuck out his hand as had the others. “You’ve done a great job today,” he finally said. “We wouldn’t have made it without you.”
Adam nodded. “Don’t sell yourself short. The Hydra team has all the skills. I was just in the right place at the right time.”
“Yes, but that’s all bravery is: being there when you’re needed,” Prescott said, hanging his head. “I didn’t give you a chance, and I need to apologize. Command had their reasons for bringing you out here, and they came through. I know you’ll carry on the mission well once we have departed for our own.”
“I only hope I can follow in your stead.”
Adam blinked, and in that thin span of time, the figure had disappeared along with the others, and the external hatch rotated shut, locking in place with a booming echo through the empty hall. The astronaut stood in place, again the solo guardian of the station, once more feeling surprisingly alone. Draco reiterated the commands and status of the Hydra as it disconnected from the station and maneuvered for its slingshot around the planet. With that brief burn, it’d pick up speed and find itself on a stable trajectory toward its eventual destination.
At once, operations on Draco Station returned to their calm, nominal level to be comprised of little more than the daily maintenance tasks. Adam slowly turned and made his way to the control center to monitor the Hydra’ progress. For part of him, the exercise gave him a shred of retention of their combined presence, as well as being the responsible action of the station’s commanding officer.
The primary display showed the packaged station’s position as it slowly maneuvered away from Draco and lined up to begin its solo burn around Saturn’s massive disc. Adam’s mind drifted. It was another milestone, and by all measures, he had cleared the test. His skills had been honed to such a level that he was able to salvage a mission that under alternative circumstances would have been a catastrophic failure. It could have been worse.
Draco’s hours of brutal instruction had paid off with a mind that was clear and directed to the tasks set before it. The stacks of virtual books which had been stuffed into Adam’s cranium sat ready, lying in wait for the right moment to be called forth. Of course, the mission was far from over; there would still be much to come, but an occasional victory was all he needed to keep his spirit alive during the endless voyage.
Adam watched the signal retreat for several minutes longer. “Draco,” he finally asked, “what’s the ETA on the next delivery from Earth?”
“Captain, a pod is scheduled for delivery in twenty-four days. It will include the high-power transmitter required for accurate communication, ranging, and remote control of the Hydra spacecraft.”
“Outstanding. Once they’re settled in for the flight, I’d like you to schedule me in for a visit to Gemini,” Adam said and got to his feet. He paused after the first step, wincing in pain.
“I can do that, but are you all right?”
“Yes, just a cramp.” Adam grimaced. “I must have pulled something.”
“Indeed,” Draco replied as Adam recovered himself. “Please inform me if the condition persists.”
The Second Shift
&nb
sp; The first pod to arrive since the departure of the Hydra crew built onto the fourth ring that had previously been started by their spare equipment bay. It included an advanced signal transmitter along with a larger antenna to maintain assured communication with the traveling spacecraft as they ventured toward their next destination. The pod was of a similar design to that of the heavy equipment bays that had arrived loaded with the booster stages, only now it contained a massive, folded, phased array antenna.
After the connection had been made, Adam circled the bay’s catwalk, taking in the intricate device. “Everything appears in order,” he reported. “Nothing worse than when it left Earth.”
“Very good. I will be needing your assistance in this deployment,” Draco’s voice came back, sounding relatively upbeat.
“With what?” Adam asked.
“I am unable to complete the extraction of the array on my own. I will need you to evacuate the pod, deploy a lander to remove the array, and bring it in range of the hydrogen draw so I can complete the installation.”
Adam nodded with Draco’s assertion. While he disagreed with the premise that the AI wasn’t able to complete the task on his own, at the least it was an opportunity to practice his skills in relative safety. If there was a purpose beyond the obvious, he didn’t know, but it was nevertheless a comforting assumption. “Copy that,” he acknowledged. “Give me a minute to get suited up.”
The routine had begun to border the familiar, as Adam again strapped himself into the mobility unit for safety and clambered into his lander mounted in the docking bay. Proficiency was a sneaky state to find oneself, he decided; throughout the early missions, it had slowly crept into his mind, refining his movements and rendering him knowledgeable about the tasks in question. Had he been asked directly, he would have denied any such accusations; although with the present evidence, it would have been difficult to declare otherwise.
At present, Adam didn’t even consider asking for assistance in the operation, whether he would have received it or not. He allowed the tiny craft to glide out from the docking bay and drift into position by the heavy equipment pod, now open and exposed to the vacuum outside. The target was illuminated by a ring of lights from the pod, along with a series of red clearance strobes marking out the anchor points along the central spine of the array.
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