by Amy Cross
"I know," I say, interrupting him as I lean past the control unit and locate the emergency switch for the secondary flight computer. "I've logged more than ten thousand flying hours in a simulator."
"I don't care what you've done in a simulator," Sutter replies, his voice sounding a little crackly over the comm-link. "Ten thousand hours in a nice safe simulator unit are not worth one minute in the real thing, so don't get cocky. I need you to check that you've located the switch for the back-up system."
"Of course I have," I reply.
"Are you sure?"
"It's right here," I reply, trying not to sound annoyed. "It's on the side of the monitor."
"Okay," he continues. "You shouldn't need it, but it's best to be safe. These old landers are built to last. I've never had a problem with any of them, so all you need to do is sit back and not freak out. Trust me, when you enter the atmosphere down there, it can be a little intimidating. The speed -"
"I know about the speed," I reply.
"Again," he says with a sigh, "don't get cocky. This'll all be old news to you soon, but right now it's going to be a shock to the system. Just hang tight, don't waste energy trying to act like you're not scared, and make sure your suit's secured. I need you to focus on the important things, not on trying to act brave."
"My suit's secured," I say dryly. "Everything's in place, all the systems are running as expected, and I'm ready to go." I pause for a moment. "Are you sure you're not the one who's nervous, Sutter? There's no need to be protective. I might be fresh out of the academy, but I'm not an idiot and I'm not going to do something dumb, okay?"
He mutters something, but I can't quite make out the words.
"What was that?" I ask.
"Never mind," he replies. "I'm initiating the un-docking sequence. It's all automatic from that point until you land, so just enjoy the ride. It'll take nine and a half minutes, and then there's a three hour window on the surface before the optimum return point starts to run out." He pauses. "Okay. Here goes nothing."
I take a deep breath, and after a moment I hear the docking arm start to crank into action. I've dreamed about this moment, about my first solo trip to the surface of an alien world, but I can't help but feel nervous. As the lander is slowly extended from the side of the station, my mind focuses on the thousands of calculations and motor functions that are taking place right now; I'm basically just a passenger, about to be launched straight at a vast and barren planet, and I guess it wouldn't be normal if I wasn't worrying that maybe something could go wrong.
As the arm reaches its maximum extension, I turn and look back at the station, which is now several meters away. It's a perfect silver sphere, hanging in orbit with a couple of lights blinking and flashing on its smooth metal skin. It's hard to believe that Sutter and I are supposed to spend years of our lives in such a small space, hurtling around and around Io-5 in what amounts to a small artificial moon. Barely thirty meters in diameter, the sphere is our whole world.
"Three," Sutter says over the radio, "two... One."
Seconds later, the docking clamp is released and the lander is set free. Instantly, the station rushes off on its orbit, leaving me hanging all alone in the lander, high above the planet. For a moment, it's as if nothing is moving, and I can't help but worry that maybe something has gone wrong. Finally, however, I realize that the lander is actually moving quite fast, heading down toward the planet's surface. The whole craft is remarkably still and calm, although after a few more seconds there's a faint bumping sound as the entry program starts running.
Gripping the side of the seat, I watch as the planet comes closer and closer. Sensor readouts show the temperature of the lander's heat shields rising rapidly, but I force myself to remember that all of this is perfectly normal. The lander tilts slightly, but again, that's normal, and as the surface of Io-5 comes toward me, I can't help but become much more aware of the lander's speed. When I check the display, I see that I'm already moving at more than five hundred miles an hour, and I'm well into the planet's atmosphere. The strangest thing, though, is that it's all so quiet. I expected a cacophony of noise, but instead there's only the faintest occasional bump as the lander is buffeted by the currents of the planet's upper atmosphere.
In fact, it's so quiet, I can hear myself breathing, and maybe even the sound of my heart pounding in my chest.
"You doing okay?" Sutter asks, his voice sounding much more distorted over the comm-link.
"Everything's fine," I reply, staring straight ahead as the surface of the planet comes spinning toward me. To be fair, Sutter was right: it is kind of exhilarating to be all alone up here, and I'm slowly becoming more and more aware of the lander's sheer speed.
"You're doing a good job," he replies.
"I'm not doing anything," I point out. "I'm just sitting here."
"You know what I mean," he continues. "I've got you on the monitor. Everything looks absolutely fine so far, and there's -"
"You don't need to talk me down," I say, interrupting him. "I'm not a child."
"Fair point. I'll -"
Before he can finish, the lander skips and lurches, and my angle of entry seems to change. I want to ask Sutter if that was normal, but I can't afford to let him know that I'm nervous so instead I focus on telling myself that there's nothing to worry about. This lander has probably made a thousand journeys down to the surface, and a little turbulence is no problem. Panicking now would be a sign of weakness.
"There might be a problem," Sutter says after a moment.
"What kind of problem?" I ask, as the lander continues to speed toward the surface at a more oblique angle than I'd anticipated.
"I'm having trouble picking up a signal from the flight computer," he replies. "It seems to have locked itself into some kind of loop. Do me a favor and switch to the back-up."
Forcing myself to stay calm, I reach out and press the switch on the side of the monitor, just as the lander hits a particularly strong area of turbulence. I let out a brief gasp as the whole vessel shudders, and I can't help but notice a faint rattling sound coming from beneath my seat. Suddenly, I'm reminded of the fact that this particular type of lander is a very old model.
"Have you done it yet?" Sutter asks.
"Yes," I say firmly.
"I'm still not picking anything up," he replies. "The back-up seems to be having the same problem. You're off-course by about half a degree, and the computer isn't correcting. In fact, it's more like three quarters of a degree now."
"That's bad, isn't it?" I ask.
"It's a complication," he says, sounding as if he's distracted by something. "Okay, Crizz, I know what we talked about earlier, but we need to do something a little drastic." He pauses. "I'm going to have to ask you to take her in manually."
"I've never practiced that," I reply, trying not to panic.
"Well, that's certainly unfortunate," he continues, "but it's not the end of the world. I've done it a few times myself, just for fun, and I'll talk you through every step. The first part involves switching off the flight computer."
"No," I reply.
"No?"
"No."
"Crizz," he continues, "I need you to switch it off."
"I'm not doing it. The flight computer -"
"The flight computer is faulty," he says firmly, "and it's going to send you crashing straight into the side of a goddamn mountain if you let it continue its current program, so turn the damn thing off! Trust me, my voice is more reliable than that thing at the moment, so get over your love of machines and let me help you. I can't disable the computer from here, so you need to do it for me." He pauses, as if he's waiting for me to obey. "Crizz, disable the flight computer now! That's a direct order!"
"I can't do this!" I shout, finally unable to stay calm. "I wasn't trained to land one of these things manually!"
"I don't care what you were trained to do," he snaps. "Don't be a slave to all the crap they put in your head at the academy, Crizz. It won't help you
right now! If you don't listen to me and follow my instructions, you're going to die. Do you understand? You need to step up to the plate." He pauses, as if he's expecting me to agree with him. "Anyway," he adds after a moment, "you've done this before."
Unable to answer, I stare at the vast rocky surface of the planet as it speeds closer. I'm still traveling hundreds of miles an hour, but the lander is descending rapidly and it won't be long before I'm low enough to hit one of the many mountains that rise up from the surface. For a moment, all I can do is stare and contemplate the inevitable impact. When it happens, at least it'll be fast and quick. There should only be a millisecond of pain.
"Crizz!" Sutter shouts. "Did you hear what I said? You've done this before! You know how to land manually, and it'll all come back to you, but you need to switch off the flight computer before it's too late!"
"I don't," I reply, feeling a cold shiver pass through my body as the lander begins to vibrate. It should have slowed down by now, and the turbulence of the upper atmosphere is starting to force me further off-course. "I never practiced this on the simulator," I continue. "It was never -"
"I'm not talking about the simulator!" he shouts. "You've done this before! You've landed one of these things in worse states! Think back!"
"I haven't!" I shout.
"The engines were failing," he continues. "You have to remember, Crizz. Three of the engines were dead and the fourth was dying, but you still managed to get the damn thing down onto the surface of Antares-5!"
"I've never been to Antares-5!"
"Yes, you have! You've been there and you've landed there!"
Taking a deep breath, I try to understand why he's filling my head with all these lies. I grew up on Mars, and I entered the academy as soon as I was old enough, and now I'm here. I sure as hell haven't been as far as Antares-5, and I've never even been in a real lander before, let alone piloted one manually. I stare at the control bar as it shakes with the rest of the vessel, and I realize that I probably only have about ninety seconds left, at best, before I crash.
"You know how to do this," Sutter says firmly. "The memory has been hidden along with everything else from the old days, but you've done it before. Think, Crizz."
Grabbing the control-bar, I stare at the instruments. I swear to God, I have no idea what half of them are supposed to be doing, but finally I realize that if I don't at least try to control the lander, I'm going to die.
"How do I turn the computer off again?" I ask, trying not to let my voice tremble too much.
"The manual override lever is beneath the dash," he replies.
Reaching down, I quickly find the lever, but I can't bring myself to pull it. Once I've overridden the computer, I'll be completely in control of the lander, and I don't have a clue how to guide the damn thing toward the surface.
"It's going to be too late if you don't do it now!" Sutter shouts. "Amanda, I know you can do it!"
"What did you call me?" I ask.
"Just pull the lever!" he screams.
Figuring that I have no choice, I grab hold of the lever and pull it. There's a moment of resistance, before it moves in its socket, and the flight computer's lights blink off.
"Now what?" I ask as the lander continues to speed toward the surface.
I wait for Sutter to reply, but after a moment I realize I can no longer hear the hiss of the comm-link.
"Sutter?"
Nothing.
"Sutter!" I shout, just as the proximity-warning alert starts sounding, signaling that I'm less than five hundred meters from the surface and falling fast.
Part Two
The Empty Echo
Chapter One
Sutter
I stare at the comm-link button.
Not yet.
Checking my watch, I see that it's been almost two minutes since I cut communication with the lander. Those two minutes have dragged past at an agonizingly slow pace, but I can't afford to risk making Crizz suspicious. That's assuming she hasn't crashed into the surface of the planet.
Glancing over at the window, I watch as Io-5 continues to slowly rotate far below the station.
No.
Crizz is alive.
She has to be.
Checking my watch again, I find that only ten seconds have passed since the last time I looked. Faking this comm-link blackout might not have been the smartest move, but I needed Crizz to start panicking. If I get in touch too soon, I might distract her and cause her to forget how to fly the damn thing; if I wait too long, she'll become suspicious. Finally, figuring that I've waited long enough, I hit the button.
"Crizz," I say firmly. "It's Sutter. Are you there?"
I wait, but all I hear is static.
"Crizz, it's me. Can you confirm you landed safely?"
Again, there's nothing but static. She should have resumed contact by now.
"Crizz, come in," I continue. "I need you to give me some kind of signal."
I pause for a moment. When I was setting up this little stunt, it never really occurred to me that Crizz might fail to land safely. I was so sure that her old memories would come flooding back, I didn't properly contemplate the alternative. As I switch to a different frequency, however, I'm starting to feel a slow sense of panic rise through my gut.
"Crizz," I continue, "this is Sutter. Can you confirm that you've landed?"
No reply.
Just static.
"Crizz," I say again, trying not to let the fear into my voice, "can you please respond to this message? I need to know that you managed to land safely. Over."
I wait, but there's not coming through the comm-link except static. It's almost as if the lander no longer exists. I've been using the remote scanner to check for any sign of an impact, but so far there's nothing; then again, the scanner's not entirely reliable, so it's still possible that the lander might have come down somewhere along the flight path. I was convinced that Crizz could handle herself, but now it's starting to look like I might have been wrong.
"Crizz," I continue eventually, "this is Sutter. Please, come in. I need some kind of response. Crizz, let me know you're alive down there!"
Looking over at the window again, I stare at the planet as I realize that I might have made a huge mistake. I trusted her memories to come back, but I left no room for error. After all these years of planning, I might have just ruined everything and killed the one person who can save us all.
Chapter Two
Crizz
Sitting in the lander's cockpit, I stare straight ahead as a huge cloud of dust begins to slowly clear. Finally, I spot a rock formation nearby, and I realize that somehow - in the midst of all that chaos and screaming - I manage to get the vehicle down to the surface with barely a scratch.
Taking a deep breath, I unbuckle my safety restraints and hit the button that releases the canopy. As the cover slides open, I realize that my hands are trembling; to be honest, I don't remember a great deal of my descent following the moment when I lost contact with Sutter. I definitely shouted a lot, and I'm pretty sure I used a whole load of curse words as I grappled with the control-bar; I have a vague memory of slamming my fist against the top of the flight computer, and at one point I might even have been flying upside-down. It's hard to remember precisely what happened, but somehow I managed to land, and the geo-locator indicates that I'm barely half a mile from the spot where I was supposed to arrive.
Not bad.
And not possible, either.
As I climb out of the lander and take my first ever steps on non-Martian soil, I can't help but think that this whole situation is too convenient. While it's nice to think that pure instinct and intelligence allowed me to wrestle the lander into submission and survive in one piece, I know enough about orbital mechanics to understand that the odds of a complete rookie performing so well are pretty much a billion to one. In other words, despite the fact that I'm standing here, I'm convinced that I should be dead.
"Crizz," Sutter says, his voice suddenly
bursting out of the static-filled radio. "Are you there?"
Turning to look at the radio for a moment, I can't help but wonder if somehow Sutter is responsible for everything that's happened. I know I'm probably being paranoid, but there's something about him that just feels wrong, and it's very easy to imagine him working behind the scenes, potentially even setting me up. As he continues to call over the radio, I lean back into the lander and pause for a moment before hitting the comm-link button.
"Crizz here," I say, trying to sound as if I'm calm and in control. "I'll patch you through to my suit."
"What happened?" he asks, as I hit a couple more buttons and the speakers in my suit start to work. "Did you land safely?"
"I guess so," I reply, still trying to get over my sense of shock. I'm glad Sutter can't see me right now, because my hands are trembling and now that the initial wave of adrenalin has subsided, I'm starting to realize just how close I came to death. "There's no damage to the lander, at least not that I can find."
"And what about you?" he asks.
"I'm talking to you, aren't I?" I reply, turning and looking toward the rock formation. "I'm going to have to complete the last part of the journey on foot, but it's not too far. There's still plenty of time to get there and assess the situation before the optimal launch window closes, so I guess we're back on-track."
"What about the lander?" he asks. "Is there any damage?"
"It's fine," I reply as I set off on the trek toward the malfunctioning supply pipe. "I got her down in one piece."
"I'm running a remote diagnostic check as we speak," he continues. "Now you've put everything in standby mode, I can reboot all the systems one by one until I've found the component that caused the problem. I should be able to figure out what went wrong and correct it by the time you're ready to come back up."
"That'd be nice," I tell him, glancing up at the red-tinted sky.
"Are you okay?" he asks. "Do you feel different?"
"I'm lucky to be alive," I point out.
