Balant: A Beginning

by Sam Smith

  We were heading directly towards a cluster of three yellowish white stars, each of which should, I surmised, have at least one planet capable of supporting life. Once, however, we had landed on the planet's surface, there we would have to stay until the rescue services found us. And the planet's atmosphere could warp the shuttle's transmissions; so we might never be found.

  I explained the position to them.

  "Seems we have no choice,” Dag said. "It has to be a planet."

  Like any other space dweller we none of us relished the idea of suffering the vagaries of existence on a planet's surface. If we should land alive. For I hastened to tell them, should they fail to realise how little were our chances of survival, of the dangers we would face in attempting to land.

  First we could burn up on entering the planet’s atmosphere. Then if I, or whoever chose to pilot the shuttle, were to misjudge the planet's gravity, we might well crash on landing. And, even were we to land safely... who knew what dangers awaited us on the planet's surface? Apart from primitive peoples, or carnivorous beasts, there were those greater terrors of which the expanses of space are free — viruses and bacteria — a multitude of microscopic organisms to which we owned no immunities.

  The more I said the unhappier did Malamud look. I sought some word of hope to cheer him, could find none.

  "We still have no choice,” Dag spoke for all of us. “How long will it take us to reach the nearest star?"

  "Two hours.” I had already made the computation. Now I keyed in the course, gave us a three second burst on the engines to increase our velocity. That profligate use of our energy worried Dag. I assured him that our energy would be replenished as we neared the star; and if the star should own no suitable planet then it would give us more than enough energy to reach the next system.

  Malamud now asked me a question that he had been wanting to ask since I had regained consciousness: if I had seen, when I had been so unwise as to look back, what had happened to the command module? I told him exactly what I had witnessed — the freighter collapsing, the command module breaking free, the explosion; and, its being so close, I doubted that the command module had not been blown apart. At that news Malamud freely wept.

  "They were all such good men," he said.

  I studied him with some surprise, for — although I subsequently came to know Malamud much better — then I must admit myself bemused — to think that such depth of feeling should exist in one whom I had judged to be so shallow. Dag later passed on to me what one of the crew had confided in him — that Malamud's mother had committed suicide three years previously. One of the Yilan’s crew had been a friend of his mother's: the crew had adopted him. They had been his family. All that I had lost had been my violin.

  As we closed on the star Dag and I attempted to console him, said that possibly they had escaped, had like us been blasted into another part of the universe. But, as neither Dag nor I believed it, our attempts to assuage his fears were unconvincing.

  However, as the star second by second became a sun, all our thoughts became taken up with where we were bound. Ignoring the outer planets I keyed in a course to take us straight to the planet that I judged most likely to be habitable. Which was the planet approximately fifteen thousand million kilometres from the sun. At that distance from its sun the planet’s temperature would be about right to support life. And if it wasn't that planet then, depending on the age of the sun, it would be one of the planets on either side of it. One orbit would be enough to tell us.

  Our energy supply was almost totally replenished. I slowed the shuttle into orbit. I had chosen correctly.

  To the north and south of the planet were blue unbroken oceans with, at the poles, frozen white caps. The land mass consisted of one continent, which completely encircled the equator. The ice and the oceans, and the whorls of cloud formations, showed there to be hydrogen and oxygen reacting with one another within the planet's atmosphere. But — what was most important — were the glimpses of green we caught between the cloud on the land mass. Green plants meant chlorophyll, chlorophyll meant most definitely breathable oxygen, meant food.

  I proposed going into a lower orbit for a closer look; and, if possible, to gauge the height of the vegetation — in the vague hope that it would tell us the strength of the planet's gravity.

  “I don't like the look of those oceans," Dag said. I glanced behind at him. Malamud was sitting beside me. Being more used to handling the shuttle, he was ready to act as co-pilot should I lose consciousness.

  “Nautili?" I asked Dag. He nodded, not wanting to alarm Malamud.

  "So far as I know," I said, "there aren't any in this galaxy." But then this galaxy was uncharted: what did I or anyone else know of it?

  "If there are," Dag said, "this planet's custom-built for them."

  "But we'll be coning down on land anyway,” I said.

  "What’re Nautili?" Malamud asked me. Not wanting to add to his fears I told him that I would explain later.

  "Let's all keep an eye open for silver trails," I said, “Just in case."

  “And habitation," Dag said, "We don't want to end up on a cockroach planet.”

  "If it was a cockroach, it wouldn't be green," I said. (And I was wrong, such was my own ignorance then.)

  “What's a cockroach planet?" Malamud again asked to be enlightened.

  (Here I shall presume in my readers an ignorance equal to Malamud's and I shall include here Dag's explanation.)

  "A cockroach planet is one that's been devastated by nuclear wipe out. only cockroaches can live on it."

  I computed the force of the planet's gravity by its estimated distance from the sun; and, as we descended to a lower orbit, I altered our course so that we circled the equatorial land mass.

  Now we could make out mountains and forests. Down the side of one mountain, as we raced overhead, I glimpsed the furzy silhouette of tall trees. Dag too had seen enough to safely assume that the atmosphere was breathable.

  "Then shall we land?" I asked them. Both nodded. Dag handed me the last tube of food.

  “You’ll need all your strength and concentration to bring us safely down."

  Rivers flowed to the north and south from the mountains.

  "A town there!” Dag cried. "And fields.”

  That presented us with another problem. For, though it assured us that it was not a cockroach planet, like all space dwellers we had been reared on tales of the gruesome customs of the primitive peoples who continued to dwell on planets. Nor are those tales just macabre fancy — many are historical and well-documented anthropological fact.

  And not only that complication. Those planets that had been deserted by their peoples in favour of space had since become free of disease; the host of the virus having left the virus itself had become extinct. This planet, however, was still inhabited. So, their primitive customs apart, another reason to avoid contact with the inhabitants would be that, although they may have acquired immunities to a great many of the planet's bacteria and viruses, that did not mean that those micro-organisms would not cause us, at best considerable discomfort, at worst death.

  "We'll have to land far from any habitation," I said. "Any cities?"

  "No lights on the dark side," Dag said. That gave us some idea of their stage of development.

  On our eighth orbit I looked more closely at a large browny-yellow area enclosed by two mountain ranges.

  "I think that's sand," I said.

  “A desert," Dag named it.

  "Like the waste from the smelters,” I told Malamud. He had jumped into a heap of it when we had been shown around one of the rigs.

  “Should be a soft landing," he bravely attempted a smile.

  “Might be rocks under its surface," Dag said.

  As we again orbited the planet we discussed it, decided that it would be best to attempt a landing as the sun set over the desert — that way the sun's lengthening shadow would highlight any projecting rocks.

  I calculated the p
oint at which we would have to enter the atmosphere to be able to glide smoothly down to the desert.

  "This is what we are going to do,” I turned to Malamud, "We are going to enter the atmosphere at a sharp angle. That way we shouldn't overheat. If anything should happen to me — if, for instance, I should again black out.” I most certainly did not feel well. "Then, as soon as we are within the planet's atmosphere, we have to level off to almost parallel with the planet's surface; and, using the engines, gradually descend to the desert. We will have to do it manually — no beacons here to guide us to our berth."

  As we made our final orbit I repeated my instructions to Malamud, showed him the figures which would give our height above the planet surface, our speed relative to its rotation.

  Malamud bit on his lip as he listened. My hands were sweating. I wiped then on my tunic, and began slowing the shuttle as we neared the point of entry. Closing the solar traps in case they should be damaged by the heat, I turned to my two friends. Dag reached forward to pat me on the shoulder,

  "Good luck."

  I wanted to make a speech of fond farewell, just in case. But, my throat being dry, I merely nodded.

  The heat from our entry was sudden and intense, and was — for a moment — like being inside a sun. Then we were whistling down through the atmosphere.

  Blasting the wing engines I slowed our speed and levelled out the shuttle. Ahead I could see the cloud-wrapped mountains, beyond which was the desert. I wondered if I had calculated our point of entry too late. I decelerated some more, could feel now the pull of gravity slowing us further.

  With a shock I realised that I hadn't allowed for that in my calculations, became worried — as we closed — that we wouldn't clear the mountains. I accelerated slightly.

  From the corner of my eye I saw Malamud flinch as we entered a cloud above the mountains. Even in those dire circumstances I smiled at his groundless fear.

  Before the smile had left my thoughts, however, we were through the cloud and below us was the desert. And, with dismay, I saw that my attempt to take advantage of the sunset was to no avail, for the mountains cast a shadow over the desert. And now the mountain range on the far side of the desert was rushing at us.

  With the engines screaming I applied maximum deceleration and decreased our altitude until we appeared to be skimming over the sand. The mountains loomed over us.

  "Now!" Dag said.

  We touched the sand. And again.

  I hung onto the controls, tried to keep us straight and level with the surface.

  We touched again. We had appreciably slowed. But the mountains, like a wall before us, were now completely filling our screen. We slid, bumped, and slid again. A bush crashed into the front of the shuttle. Then another. And another. A fierce jolt jerked the control column from my hands. Inside the console something broke loose. With a flash of sparks the console shut itself off. We tore on into the vegetation. Helpless I watched green branches whipping past us. While, beyond the crashing and the slapping, I heard the engines and the life-support dying.

  Then we stopped.

  Fumes, dust and smoke rose all around us. Then the shuttle slowly, very slowly, listed to the right hand side.

  "We’re alive," Malamud said with surprise.

  For a moment the smoke cleared. We looked out, through the tangled vegetation wrapped around the shuttle, at some trees, and beyond them a green mountain slope.

  "Still got your low opinion of learning?” Dag asked Malamud as he unstrapped himself. “Because without Pi’s learning we wouldn't now be alive."

  "I only wish he had a little more learning," Malamud said as he too unstrapped himself, "then we might not have had such a bumpy landing.”

  As for me, I sat there exhausted, unable to move. I remember attempting to smile at them, and at the same time feeling the gravity stirring the nausea within me. My head wound throbbed. The pain became a breathless thump deep in my heart. Then I lost consciousness again.

  Chapter Four

  Our introduction to the vicissitudes of planet life, and our hopes of rescue.

  I choked awake into utter darkness. A cold liquid was dribbling down my chin, down my neck and over my chest. A pale disc breathed moistly into my face and apologised.

  It was Malamud.

  I shivered.

  So began the worst night of my young life.

  Malamud told me that, when I had again fainted, Dag had decided that I needed water. Recklessly opening the door of the shuttle, taking one of our water bottles, he had disappeared into the vegetation. Dark had descended the moment he had returned. Then I had woken.

  “Did you boil the water?" I asked Dag.

  "How?" Dag asked me.

  I had to admit that I could think of no ready means whereby he might have done so. A fire would have been easy enough to make, but in what container would he have boiled the water? Our water bottles were all made of soft plastic.

  “Why?” Malamud asked. I again explained to him the dangers of microscopic bacteria, how we would have no immunity to them. But, as Dag said, the damage had been done, no point now in harking on about it.

  As we already had water on board the shuttle I wondered at Dag’s motives. Had it been his attempt to commit us to life on the planet? Had he been testing the water on me? Because, sooner or later, we would have had to sample the water or die of dehydration. As tomorrow we would have to search for food or die of malnutrition.

  The three of us lie upon our seats and shivered; and, to overcome our terrors, we talked of the morrow. We decided that Dag and Malamud should go in search of food while I attempted to repair the shuttle’s life support. Food, hopefully having been found, Dag and Malamud would then clear the wing roof so that the radiation traps could be raised and the following night we would have light and warmth.

  Although I have here stated simply our plans for the morrow, that night our conversation was punctuated by many hesitations, both Dag and I not wanting to worry Malamud with our host of reservations. We could sense that in the dark he was quietly weeping. So our every utterance was larded with an optimism that neither of us felt. Indeed Dag, like I, went off into reveries that must have been as full of foreboding as my own; only rousing himself to talk, as I did, to cover the rumbling of our stomachs. Our shivering we could not control; and, the shuttle being lopsided, every time a cold spasm overtook us we slid off our seats.

  Oh how I wished that night, and not for the last time, that I had never left the security and comfort of my mother's outstation. And, recalling my lost violin, I too almost wept with remorse. And I railed at myself for having taken so many of the benefits of our civilisation for granted: water and food at the touch of a button, warmth and light passing unnoticed, a future assured.

  The first grey light of morning, though, did bring hope. My two companions even managed to fix a smile to their haggard faces. Only, for all of us, a few moments later, to stare about us open-mouthed.

  On every side, even from the barren desert, rose the cries of many creatures. From above and below we were assailed by a cacophony of screeches and wails. Then, no sooner had we pressed our hands to our ears, than we had to avert our faces from the reflected glare of the rising sun. The adjusters on our screens were, of course, not functioning. The light blazed off the foliage, glared off the nose of the shuttle, blazoned off the very dirt of the planet.

  In squeezing shut my eyes, in trying to stop my ears, oh then did I long for the darkness and silence, for the clear sharp shadows of space, where light is constant and where every noise is of our own making, is subject to our control. Where even our noisy neighbours are open to petition. Listen now to that slight whisper of distant machinery.

  Yet, even while these thoughts were foremost in my mind, I also recalled unmelodious chords in my mother’s ancient scores, and I realised that they had had their origins on a raucous planet such as this. And, realising that my species had once tolerated a planet such as this, I shaded my eyes to the glare and I
looked about me.

  Whether the creatures’ noise was subsiding after the first shout of day, or I had become so quickly used to it, I do not know; but the light no longer blinded me, my only discomfort now being the throbbing of the wound on my forehead.

  Dag stood, gripped Malamud by the shoulder,

  "Time to face this world."

  Malamud was pale.

  "If our barbarous ancestors could survive on a planet like this,” Dag encouraged him, "then so too can we."

  When Dag opened the shuttle door the noise from outside seemed to double. New noises too — the chirp of smaller creatures, a light wind rustling the foliage... I could sense, I could share, Malamud’s fears — of the unseen creatures, of the disordered vegetation, of the planet itself. All of which Dag tried to overcome with a gentle chiding: he derided such primitive loud lifeforms, dismissed the plants and creepers as green junk...

  The shuttle listing away from the door he sat on the floor before dropping to the ground. He then reached up to help Malamud down. I watched him lead Malamud to the rear of the shuttle; and, once they had disappeared behind the tangle of bushes and small trees that the shuttle had dragged with it, I ordered myself to my allotted task.

  All that the shuttle's tool kit contained was a few keys and the shuttle programmes for the machine minders. The minders would have belonged to the Yilan. Although I had said nothing on the subject to Dag or Malamud, I did not hold much hope of repairing the shuttle’s controls, especially if the damage should prove extensive. And I knew, before I even started, that the damage must hare been severe for the shuttle to have shut its power off. That was a realistic expectation: the shuttle being our only likelihood of rescue, I also know that I had to try to repair it.

  Having found the correct key I unscrewed the panels from the console, stacked them along the lower side of the shuttle. Already, so early in the day, the shuttle was becoming uncomfortably hot; and I soon became glad of the breeze wafting in through the open door.