The Accidental Explorer

by George Deeb

  “Fire lower central thrusters on my command – full burn - Actuate!” said Munen.

  Califas fired the thrusters. In ten fracins the thrusters had used up their fuel, and died.

  “Lower central thrusters expended.” stated the computer. “Total speed reduction seven percent.”

  “First phase went well.” said Munen. “Let's do it again.”

  “Ready when you are.” said Califas.

  “Initiate lateral pitch - plus zero nine zero arcleesons.” commanded Munen.

  “Lateral pitch plus zero nine zero arcleesons.” said Califas, once again firing the lower front and the upper aft thrusters.

  “Terminate thrusters now.” said the computer again, and again Califas quickly shut them down. Once again the ship rotated and stopped.

  “Plus zero nine zero arcleeson rotation.” said the computer.

  “What?” asked Califas, confused at this occurring twice.

  “I don't... What is going on here?” asked Munen. “Confirm our attitude.”

  “I don't believe it either,” said Plessa, “but it's true. We've just completed two perfect ninety arcleeson rotations. Instruments confirm it.”

  “Under manual control?” said Munen, in disbelief.

  “Yes,” said Plessa, with a smile on his face, “under manual control. Looks like we have a super pilot on the bridge.”

  They both looked at Califas, who had a big grin on his face. Munen shook his head in disbelief. But if the computer and instruments indicated they had done it, then he had to accept it. They continued on with the procedure.

  “Fire rear thrusters – full burn - Now!” said Munen.

  Califas did so. The thrusters burned until exhausted, then died.

  “Rear thrusters expended.” stated the computer. “Total speed reduction forty-seven percent.”

  “One more time.” said Munen, looking over at Califas, who nodded. “Whenever you're ready.”

  “Initiating ninety arcleeson rotation – Now!” said Califas, as he touched the control panel.

  “Terminate thrusters now.” said the computer once again.

  Once again Califas shut down the thrusters, and the ship rotated and stopped.

  “Plus zero nine zero arcleeson rotation.”

  Califas looked at Munen, waiting for the next command. Munen just looked back at him for a few seconds.

  “I'm not even going to comment.” said Munen in disbelief. “If it's not broke, don't fix it. Fire upper central thrusters when you're ready. Full burn.”

  “Magic fingers.” said Califas, wiggling his fingers and smiling.

  Then he tapped the control panel screen. The thrusters fired, then burned out.

  “Upper central thrusters expended.” stated the computer. “Total speed reduction fifty-four percent.”

  They repeated the procedure once more. Another perfect ninety arcleeson rotation. Plessa also shook his head in disbelief. Califas then fired the forward thrusters, which burned until exhausted.

  “Forwarded thrusters expended.” stated the computer. “Failure on thrusters three, seven, and twelve. Total speed reduction ninety-four percent.”

  Ninety-four percent speed reduction using only the emergency thrusters, and not all of them at that. Not bad, but not as good as needed. Ninety-eight percent would have been ideal. Munen wondered if the three thrusters that failed would have given them the extra four percent – Ilmert's law at work. Ninety-eight percent reduction would have left just enough forward speed to allow the landing gear to dissipate the remaining energy by contact friction, as the ship settled against the moon's surface in a relatively short landing run. But that was wishful thinking - they couldn't afford to use the remaining thrusters for further speed reduction.

  The thrusters that were still functional were needed to maneuver the ship into the landing attitude. It would be a one shot event – they had to get it right the first time. They didn't have fine enough control of the thrusters to make subtle adjustments as they were touching down. It all had to be calculated, implemented, and fingers crossed – and there was still the unknown factor of possible thruster failure. Any use of thrusters while they were making contact would guarantee an uncontrollable crash. If they touched down with too much vertical velocity they could jam the gear up into the fuselage – not good at all.

  7

  Fingers Crossed

  “Three larns to attitude adjustment point.” said the computer.

  Munen, Califas, and Plessa were at their stations, securely restrained, with crash systems armed. Califas had his index finger touching the display screen, pointing at the next step of the emergency checklist – it was an important one.

  “Two larns to attitude adjustment point.”

  Munen was intent on the navigational displays, cross-checking the computer's announcements.

  “Suspend Command Security protocols.” read Califas from the emergency checklist, as he and Plessa looked at Munen.

  Munen looked back and nodded. All three placed one hand on the display screen in front of them. Their identities were checked and confirmed by the ship's computer.

  “Suspend Command Security Protocols.” said Munen.

  Each of the other men stated the same thing aloud. The verbal declarations were required for the official ship's log to record their intentions. On their screens, next to the green outline that surrounded their hand, was displayed an alpha-numeric keypad. Each man carefully entered his own security code.

  The codes were one of the several security measures used to make sure the ship could not be controlled by an unauthorized person. They were memorized as part of the acceptance procedure of their respective command positions. They were never written down or recorded in any way on the ship, and never shared with any other person. To do so could put the lives of other crew members in jeopardy. Even the main computer did not store the codes as data. Instead, it used a variable algorithm with a derived base that was different for each person, and every ship's computer used a different method to determine the base. Since the base and the method for determining it was different for each ship, and each person, it was considered uncrackable – certainly uncrackable in any practical amount of time.

  Even with the computational power of the main computer, it took some time to extract the codes. The main computer had begun the calculations at the beginning of the deceleration procedure. It had completed the calculations just a few fracins ago. Six command security codes had been derived.

  Three other crew members also had Command Authorization security codes – and no other crew member knew who they were. It could be the ship's Head Cook, or the Chief Mining Engineer, or one of the maintenance crew. If the bridge staff were incapacitated or lost, one or all of those unknown three could take command of the ship and the main computer would recognize their authority to do so. All of these precautions were necessary because there were a lot of dangers in space travel. Some were physical, and some were criminal.

  Suspension of the Command Security Protocols was necessary because as a safety precaution they would be in environmental suits, in case the worst happened and the hull was breached. Once in the suits normal crew recognition procedures could not be carried out by the main computer. Without the suspension of the protocols, and with the computer unable to confirm their identities, they would effectively lose control of the ship – the main computer would not accept their commands. With the protocols suspended anyone could command the ship's computer, and therefore anyone could control the ship. Even abandoned ships maintained their Command Security protocols by requirement of law.

  It was something that was rarely done, and required at least three of the highest ranking authorized crew members to concur on the procedure. To authorize this was to invite an official investigation into the reason for doing so. If it all went well, and everyone and the ship returned home safely, there would still be an investigation into their actions. All members of the crew, and the ship itself, would be held inactive until t
he investigation was completed. This meant no work – and no income – for the crew, and the temporary loss of the use of the ship by the company. A lot of people were going to be unhappy.

  “Command Security protocols suspended.” stated the computer. “Authorization Artau-sil-Munen - Grilik of the Orysta. Authorization Intul-sil-Califas - Tahn-grilik of the Orysta. Authorization Benua-sil-Plessa - Chief Engineer of the Orysta.”

  It was done. They all knew what they were in for when they made it back home – if they made it home. It was time for the next step.

  8

  The Final Phase

  The environmental suits were a wonder of modern engineering and chemistry. The middle layer was a carbon fiber micro-lattice, that kept the suit very light, allowed it to flex without loss of function, and acted as a superb insulator. The structure was similar to the metallic macro-lattice that formed several layers of the ship's hull. Biometric sensors continually monitored the wearer's physical condition, and transmitted the data to both the ship's main computer and the medical computer. The inner layer contained medicinal infusers of various types which could treat minor physical injuries, physiological stress from migraines to fatigue, or if necessary induce a comatose state. If the person was injured, the medical computer initiated rescue operations while continuing to monitor the wearer and the automated response of the suit.

  Depending on the circumstances, if the wearer's life functions ceased the main computer marked the crew member as deceased, or missing:presumed lost, and notified the other crew members. The suit's outer layer contained various electronic devices that allowed tracking, communications, and environmental analysis. And all of that was just the more obvious stuff. There were other functions, like protection from radiation. If the suit was punctured, it could seal itself and reestablish environmental integrity – if the damage wasn't too extensive. But for all its wonder and capability, it was still a space suit – it still hindered movement, still dulled your natural senses, and still made everything slightly more difficult to do. It was like a second skin – but a thick second skin.

  “Initiate Tertiary Safety Protocol.” commanded Munen.

  “Tertiary safety protocol initiated.” said the computer.

  Technology is a great thing. It allows normal people to do extraordinary things. It extends their senses and capabilities. It allows them to survive in deadly environments. But it can not overcome the laws of physics. Those laws decreed that at the speed they would be moving at the time of contact with the surface, the forces that would be experienced would be so great that no normal person would be able to control the movement of their body, or stop themselves from being violently thrown and becoming a messy splat of smashed bones and crushed organs as their bodies impacted the front of the bridge. The only function they would be able to control was their thoughts. That was why the tertiary safety protocol was necessary.

  Under control of the main computer, the seats the three men were sitting in moved like they were alive. They swiveled around and reclined so that the men were supine and facing the rear of the ship. From the sides bloomed contoured extensions that molded to, and secured the head, upper body, upper arms, waist area, and legs, while allowing the lower arms a small amount of movement. The men were effectively trapped in their seats. Smaller control screens pivoted up until they were in a position that the men could reach with their hands.

  This was one of the oldest and least used safety system in this modern era of space travel. It was the most basic system of protection available to crew members. It restrained and cushioned the body from impact forces, but also made it difficult to function because it limited physical motion. But there were times when its use was necessary, and the only practical way to accomplish what was needed. Normally, no crew member would be on the bridge during an emergency landing – they would be in protective crash stations where they would control and monitor systems through the main computer. With so many systems on the ship damaged however, and the main computer limited in its control of the remaining systems, there was no choice. It was a section of the Flight Manual's Emergency Checklist that was rarely used in actual situations – and even though they practiced it in training sessions, like the emergency thrusters, no one ever really expected to have to use it. Now they had to.

  Above them, a three dimensional depiction of the view in front of the ship appeared. This would give them a real-time view of what was going on outside the ship. It was actually a better perspective than they would have had looking out of the view port, and it displayed a wider angle of view.

  “One larn to attitude adjustment point.” said the main computer.

  “Here we go.” said Munen.

  “Engineering ready.” said Plessa.

  “Ready here.” said Califas.

  “Grilik has control of the ship.” said Califas, reading from the checklist. “Engineer has authority to override on exigent circumstances.”

  “I've got the ship.” confirmed Munen.

  “Acknowledged.” said Plessa. “Releasing final beacon.” He touched his control panel, and the emergency beacon fired, and navigated away from the ship. “Beacon away.”

  With those words Plessa's level of tension rose greatly. He was now in a dangerously responsible position, but still not as bad a position as Munen. It was Munen who was the ship's Commander, and it was his responsibility if anything went wrong. Plessa would monitor what Munen was doing and the resulting response of the ship. If the response was not as expected, due to system malfunctions or unexpected internal or external influences, he had the authority to negate Munen's control and do what he considered was necessary to save the ship and all their lives. This was necessary so that Munen could give his full attention to the landing. But again, any results – good or bad - due to Plessa's actions would still be the responsibility of Munen, whether his hands were on the controls or not. Plessa's responsibility was to save their lives if something unknown to Munen went wrong – a heavy burden. Munen's responsibility was to take the blame if it then went badly.

  The final beacon that was launched carried additional information to that of the previous ones. Besides all the ships logs, system status recordings, Command Authorizations, and navigational information that the other beacons also had, there were personal messages by every member of the crew. If things went wrong – if they didn't survive the landing – if for any reason they were never found or rescued, there would still be a very good chance the beacon would be recovered. The messages would be delivered to family members. They were a last goodbye.

  “Initiate longitudinal rotation now.” stated the computer.

  Califas had been waiting for the instruction, and using both hands, he immediately fired the lower right side and upper left side thrusters. The ship began to rotate around its longitudinal axis.

  “Terminate thrusters now.” said the computer.

  Califas quickly shut them down.

  “Zero nine zero arcleeson longitudinal rotation.” stated the computer.

  “Good job.” said Munen.

  Now the top of the ship faced in the rotational direction of the moon. All three men relaxed slightly, as they waited for the next step in the procedure.

  “Extend landing gear zero point seven zero. Cant plus zero point two five.” said the computer.

  Plessa slid his finger down one side of his control screen to the proper position, and then to the right at a slight angle. Seventy percent extension would give the ship the best impact absorption for this type of landing. Twenty five percent cant would allow the gear skids to make contact at the rear edge first. As the front of the skids came down, more gordaelate fingers would make contact and begin to dissipate the energy of their momentum. The cant angle also compensated for the changing direction of force as the ship contacted the surface, and its weight settled onto the gear while they were moving forward. It would be a rapid deceleration.

  The ship shuddered a little as the gear doors unlatched and opened. Then came t
he subtle, familiar vibration that indicated the gear were extending. Plessa monitored the graphic indicator that reflected the physical position of the gear. The vibration stopped, and a slight “thunk” was heard as the gear locked in position.

  “Landing gear at seven zero percent extension and plus two five percent cant.” said Plessa.