One of the things my mother insisted on was that I keep a journal of all that went on in my life and all pertinent data to do with our colonization efforts. That way if anything went wrong people in the future might be able to avoid the same pitfalls, and keep the same mistakes from destroying their efforts. And if something went right, well, then we’d remember that too. I used to hate it, but as time went along I began to find that it helped me remember exactly what was going on along the way, and to avoid making the same errors over again in my own life. Mothers usually know what they’re doing, it seems to me.
Astro II had a magnetosphere polarized so we would be able to use a compass, considered to be an important skill on a planet for navigation on foot or on the water. We used to have organized treasure hunts, using compass points for references. One day in the Hydrop there was a hunt for a prize (unnamed) and the winner wouldn’t know what the item was until it was found. Then you’d be asked what you found, and if you were correct you’d win a new electric scooter for your own, to travel around the corridors of our ship/world. Usually the item was something small and tangible, a stuffed animal, or painted model of the asteroid, or a hat. On this particular day, we could not find anything tangible. I was the only one that day to correctly identify the item: a wire sticking up out of the ground which had been uncovered over a period of time, in a very obscure section where people never go. When I didn’t find any tangible object, a screwdriver or a book or something, I checked my headings and knew I was in the right place. Just a few of my classmates had made it to that location, and had left empty-handed, assuming they had missed something in their coordinates.
I checked again, and again was completely confident in my navigation. I looked hard at that unassuming wire, and guessed that must be it. I returned to my professors empty handed, and said, “There’s a wire in the ground; I didn’t want to pull on it without having a chance to check the infrastructure schematics to make sure it wasn’t attached to something important.” I shrugged. Professor Jane smiled widely at me. I was right!
The whole thing was actually a training and testing exercise. My win resulted in me being transferred to a school program designed to take advantage of my ability to follow direction and use logic to reason the solutions to problems without having all of the info ordinarily supplied. In this case, we didn’t know what we were supposed to find, and the goal was different from what we’d come to expect. I didn’t know at the time that I was being chosen, even then, for mission leadership. In my lifetime we would have to begin our exploration of new worlds, and I was being groomed to help lead those initial missions. The ability to see things in a clear perspective was going to be the most important part of early decision making for establishment and development of our first colony.
My victory that day gave me new and frequently resented liberties. Even many of my friends were jealous of my position, which separated me from them for special classes and training. The most abuse I received from that was of course from my old nemesis, Roger, whose father, Wade Turley, was an important man. Wade was the newly appointed supervisor of the Primary Matter Synthesizer, which was the largest molecular rearranger on the ship. It was the only one that could crank out steel I-beams and large sheets of aluminum or any other synthetic construction materials. Wade clearly resented my selection over Roger; and he made sure Roger never forgot that my father had been Captain of our ship, a position Wade was not shy about suggesting publically my father never should have had. Most people shrugged off Wade’s political rants as inconsequential. He was a community leader, and aside from long-standing resentment against my family (which I can only assume stemmed from some boyhood feud with my father), he was a decent enough fellow.
Roger carried all of his father’s grudges and resentments as if they were his own. He was smart, and eventually advanced on his own, but he was so arrogant that he and I would never, ever be friends.
As a result of my frequent separation from my fellow adolescents, I eventually became closer to some of the younger gifted kids, who were separated from their peers much the same way I was, though most of them were three to seven years my junior. I was often in an automatic position of leadership by being the senior member of the group. It was not by accident that it turned out that way, as I realized later as I grew into the role my aptitudes had actually chosen for me.
My mother used to read all the time to find out how people lived on planet side. It was the little things, she used to explain to me, that are going to be the biggest adjustment we’ll need to make when we begin to settle a new home.
“According to all that I’ve read, people react to changes in weather— things like rain, meaning water from the sky not scheduled for irrigating the Hydrop, but everywhere. Earth journals suggest it’s always sort of wet and not at all comfortable in that kind of weather and it affects how people feel inside, sometimes in unpleasant ways, and can even makes you want to eat different foods.” As a result of this my mother used to change our views in our artificial windows and try to match the moods about which she had read. Almost every room on the ship had these windows that you could set to different scenery and if you chose, you could set it to cycle different weather conditions on its own making it random, just like real weather. She felt that was important and usually we would keep the same setting of scenery for a period of time to reflect actually living in one location with only the weather changing. The window screens were from the start meant to reduce the feelings of claustrophobia while living our entire lives in a sealed container, as we did, although I imagine that was harder on the original generation leaving Earth than it was for us.
After dad died, Mom, Angie, Nettie and I would sometimes go to the Hydrop for picnics and deliberately catch it on the cycle when the sprinklers were due to come on. It was as close as we could get to getting caught in the rain; but there was no wind or thunder and lightning like some storms were said to have had. Nettie’s father just shook his head in bewilderment when we all came home soaking wet, little Angie and Nettie and I laughing hysterically as if it had been a real adventure.
Once we went to the Hydrop during the winter cycle to see snow. The Hydrop botanists simulated winter to keep the plants adapted to endure genuine climate change, but it was all scientific; it never occurred to me, before mom suggested it, that the season cycles of the Hydrop might be worth exploring from a human perspective. “We need to adapt just like the plants do,” mom said; and even Nettie’s parents decided to come along on that trip.
The winter cycle was beautiful, with everything coated in a fine dusting of white. I wondered if we would ever see snow in a real world, or if we would be on a planet where it was too warm or dry for that. These excursions were as close to natural conditions as we could get but we had all seen old vids from Earth when snow got to be very deep and was being blown around by strong wind; that can really happen!
The rest of my adolescence was occupied with studying electronic and communications equipment and training to participate in—and if necessary command—our first missions to the planets we’d be reaching by the time I was an adult.
I also spent my obligatory two years in the Astro II Security Militia, which was meant to develop civil consciousness. Once I completed my two years, I stayed on in the Militia, as that was the best way to guarantee to be included in anything of interest that might arise. In addition to being a necessary civic duty, the Militia was our military organization, intended to be our security force when we reached our destination, and our defense if the places we arrived were already occupied (although that wasn’t considered a real likelihood). Still, it was best to be prepared.
When I turned eighteen I was allowed to go outside the ship and explore the surface of our world without supervision, alone; which though not forbidden, is certainly not recommended. It was the first time in my life that I was completely alone, and I knew for the first time that if anything went wrong, there was no way anyone could come to my assistance in time to s
ave me. The experience, though frightening, was exhilarating—and yet terrifyingly lonely all at the same time. Standing there, by myself, I looked up into the blackness, bent my knees deep, and leapt up as hard as I could. For a moment I felt a wild weightlessness, an untethering from the restrictions of gravity, and couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the freedom of it, and at my own audacity. And then the Astro II’s gravity field pulled me back down and I landed, feet apart, back on the surface. I laughed again, and felt brave.I tempted fate as often as I could from that day on, daring to go and do what others were squeamish to do: hand-over-hand maneuvers over the outside shuttle bay doors, when they jammed, to get them open; and climbing high up the walls surrounding the MCS with the engineers, to learn the intricacies of the system. The distance was dangerous, but the Engineers showed me the right climbing techniques, and grinned and slapped me on the back when I scrambled up, unafraid. I was allowed these moments because I could justify them as preparing me to explore planet side; and because, I think, everyone was just a little curious about my sudden adventurousness. I got the reputation as a sort of daredevil, but the feeling of freedom— especially not being in the confines of the ship—was irresistible.
The twelve generations of travel to the stars was well documented, but it really was pretty much just like the life you know except we were inside of a giant terrarium. The real interesting things started as we arrived, at long last, at our destination.
The journey ends, and the story begins.
The Arrival
Alerts were sounding all through the Astro II as I came awake. Not the emergency alarms like those that announced my father’s death, but calls to action. The alert sounding from my private console told me to get up and get to the bridge: after 12 generations, we were finally arriving and entering orbit around one of three potentially habitable planets that—we hoped— would put an end to our years of traveling. Our probes had returned reasonably favorable readings from the third, fourth and fifth planets. As we approached number four we could see two continents, one almost round and the other like a crescent. Our geologists suggested they were once connected and that plate tectonics were probably still active. We were now in orbit and ready to do some exploration.
From the three probes that were sent down, only one returned data because we lacked experience programming and operating them in atmospheric conditions. From this we knew there was life, though we detected no signs of civilization. It was decided that the first landing would be on the larger continent, a little north of the equator, about twenty-five miles west of its ocean.
I was selected to be on the first landing team as communication officer, being also a Sergeant in the Astro II Security Militia. Here’s how my bio card for the mission team read:
Sgt. Eric Duncan
Age: 26
Position: Electronics and Communications / Landing Team Specialist
Shipboard Job: Professor of Electronics & Communications
Rating: Excellent
Parentage: Captain Byron Duncan and Rhonda Huston Duncan
Siblings: Angel Lynn Duncan (age 16).
Angie had turned into a true math and physics prodigy, sometimes sitting in on my classes and providing additional commentary to my students on engineering and electronics. Her math skills were already beyond mine, but I could not have been more proud of my kid sister.
By this time, Mom was also doing better, and smiling and laughing again. She continued to work as a Biologist, and I suspected that she had become romantically involved with a coworker, Stan, although she had been entirely silent about it. I think she was worried that Angie and I might take it as a slight against dad; but of course we never would. I knew I'd have to let her know that I approved, he was a descent sort. I just wasn’t exactly sure how to breach the subject, in case I was reading things all wrong.
We still shared the same three bedroom apartment I’d grown up in, which was three very small bedrooms, about 5 X 8 feet, and a 12 X 10 living area with an alcove kitchen and a small bathroom. It wasn’t as claustrophobic as it sounds because we kept our artificial scenic windows displaying genuine Earth scenes, changing for day and night. It really helped a lot, though sometime it was nice to set it for the ship’s forward camera view, especially now that we had a planet in view along with its two moons.
The planet so far labeled just #4 was 110 million miles from its G type sun, and was about 10,000 miles in diameter. The moons were 1000 and 1500 miles in diameter, the smaller only about 75 thousand miles away from #4, the other about 125 thousand.
Dr. Young, our head astronomer, said “This probably makes for some pretty erratic tidal shifts and is the main reason we aren't landing closer to the coast.”
When I arrived at the landing bay for departure toward the planet, Capt. Anton Pierce was addressing the rest of the assembled landing party. Fifteen rather anxious colleagues were standing with their equipment bags and cases, waiting to board the shuttle, shifting from foot to foot. Nettie gave me a small smile and waved her hand, just slightly, as I came in. I grinned at her, then joined the ranks facing the Captain.
“ . . .lucky to be among the first to set foot on our—hopefully—new home.” the Captain was saying with a smile. He continued, “I want constant communication on the mission,” said with a glance in my direction. “It looks peaceful enough, but we can't afford to let our guard down. I want a thorough check of the area we've chosen for this drop and . . .” yada yada yada, for fifteen more minutes before we climbed aboard with a final “Good luck!” I loved Captain Pierce, but my goodness could that man talk!
Lt. Olga Koenigsberg, our landing team commanding officer, took charge as the hatch was sealed with a final clank. I suddenly realized this was really it, there was no turning back! All of this had been rehearsed many times, but I always knew then that it wasn't real or life- threatening. This was so much better!
I established radio contact, engines fired, clamps released, and we shot out of the berth accelerating toward the planetary surface. What a rush! My goose bumps had goose bumps!
Then we hit the atmosphere; the fun and real terror began! I was kept busy trying to maintain communication with Astro II, over the noise of our shuttle passing through the friction and heat, and bouncing around unmercifully. I was almost sure the little ship was going to fall apart. There's a big difference between knowing what to expect, and really experiencing it, and all the jostling took us by surprise.
Slowly I felt gravity take hold and the shaking started to diminish. Lt. Joseph Bradford (who went by Brad) was piloting our craft for this first real gravity landing, in a non simulated condition. His dark skin was beaded with sweat and his knuckles paled from gripping the controls as he fought to maintain altitude and attitude during our descent. The shuttle was designed like a harrier aircraft, with vertical landing and takeoff capabilities.
Brad set us down with hardly a discernible thump at contact. Then, “ Jesus!” Was all he said as he collapsed on the controls in front of him. I believe that was the first time he breathed since hitting the atmosphere.
Olga spoke up immediately: “Sergeant Jordan, Corporal Getz and Private Braun; you will exit through the airlock and establish a secure perimeter.” (This was Nettie Jordan, of course, and our friends Joshua Getz and Ira Braun). Olga then addressed me directly. “Sergeant Duncan? Are communications established with the ship?”
“Yes Sir, never lost it and we’re tuned to opened mike as ordered, Sir.” I responded. “They'll hear everything each of us says as planned. All headsets are returning signal and anyone not hearing a test tone, tell me now.” I sent out the test tone.
Private Hester Freemont jumped up, then looking somewhat embarrassed, said, “sorry, it turns out my volume was a bit too high.” This brought on a few chuckles from us and reminded me of just how tense we really were.
Only those who have spent their whole life in a sealed environment could know exactly how we were all feeling.
Nettie, Joshua,
and Ira entered the airlock which, though not officially needed based on initial atmospheric analysis, was being used in case there were unknown agents in the atmosphere that hadn't yet been detected. The outer lock opened and the three stepped cautiously out into the open.
“My god,” gasped Josh. “ I feel like I'm going to float away It's so . . . ”
“Yeah!” Ira stammered. “It’s so open; there is no proper word to describe it.”
“Ok guys, let's get a grip,” Nettie cut in practically. “Not time for sightseeing yet. Ira, go left, Josh to the right. Tell me if anything moves.”
We all waited patiently inside for the all clear to come out. Yeah, sure we were patient! Truth was we were about to knock the door of the airlock to pieces and pile out to see the world! Got to be honest here, it seemed to take forever.
“This waiting around is foolish!” snapped Cpl. Roger Turley, with his usual air of arrogance.
“Put it away Turley.” Ordered Olga. “This is by the book; got it?”
“Yes Sir, Lieutenant!” He agreed, without seeming to agree at all.
I never could get along with him, even as a child, and maturity didn't seem to have improved things any. When we were in our teens, after our first fight over his comment about my father, we’d had one other real knock down drag out fight over a girl that he felt belonged to him alone, and I got in the way of his plans.
After that, we had many little run ins during which times he’d remind me that his family was more important than mine; that his daddy was running things, and mine was . . . well, you know. It was insufferable.
The call came at last that there didn't seem to be any immediate threat, so, time to explore! Olga opened the airlocks with a manual override, and we all filed out into the open air with the exception of our pilot Brad and Dr. Aleiva (Lee) Hebron, whom it had been agreed, should stay with our ship for security. They were indispensable and no unnecessary risk would be taken.
Starborn Odyssey (The Starborn Odyssey Trilogy Book 1) Page 3
