by Stuart Clark
“Those figures sound incredibly similar to the ones you just read out.” Kate said.
“Which means wherever those ships are, they’re pretty close together,” Bobby added.
“Well let’s find out exactly where they are, shall we?” Wyatt asked. He stood from his crouching position, lifting the unit off the floor as he did so. “Let’s see what the computer makes of all of this.”
* * * * *
Wyatt relayed the coordinates to the Santa Maria’s computer while the others all stood anxiously behind him.
“Computer, how far apart from each other are those ships?” he asked.
“Fourteen point eight three miles,” came the reply.
“And how far away from us are they?”
“Fifteen hundred and seventy two point zero six miles.”
There was a groan from behind him. “So we are shafted, after all.”
Wyatt turned. It was Par who had spoken. He frowned. “How come you’re so keen to write us off?”
“What? What do you mean?” Par said defensively, looking at Wyatt and the others.
“Well, you seem very eager to dash our hopes.”
“No, I’m just being realistic. If those ships are over a thousand miles away then there’s no way we can travel that distance over land and get to them with the supplies we have.”
“No, true, but then there are ways around that problem.”
“Like what?”
“Well, certainly we can’t get to those ships, but maybe this old bird can.” Wyatt indicated the ship, casting his eyes around the room.”
“But you said yourself our fuel levels are minimal.”
“Minimal, not non-existent.” Wyatt turned back towards the consoles. “Computer, given our fuel stats, can we reach or at least get close to those coordinates in this ship?”
“Calculating,” came the reply, followed shortly by “Affirmative.”
“What are our options?”
“Only one. A single sub-space flight. Generator power will allow the Santa Maria to climb to a height of thirty five thousand feet which can be maintained for seventeen seconds. During and beyond this time the solid rocket boosters must be fired for a sixty-five second duration after which both power sources will be nearly exhausted. The predicted trajectory places the Santa Maria’s destination to within seventy miles, plus or minus ten miles, of the designated coordinates.”
“Yes!” Chris said, punching the air in front of him.
“See?” Wyatt said.
“Okay,” Par said. “But what happens when the generator gives out after seventeen seconds? What’s keeping us up there?”
“Nothing,” Wyatt said flatly. “We’re flying by the seat of our pants. It’s just our forward motion that keeps us up until gravity starts to take over.”
“You mean we’re going to crash land from thirty-five thousand feet? By the time we touch base we’ll be dropping like a stone!”
Suddenly Chris was not so enthusiastic.
“Well there could be a little generator power left to kick in just before we touch down to slow our descent, but it’s that or nothing. Unless you’ve got a better idea—which I don’t think you have.”
“You’re mad,” Par muttered. “We may as well die here.”
“Well? What does everybody else think?”
“Par’s right,” Kit said. “It’s a crackpot idea. You’ll kill us all.”
“But we’ll die anyway if we stay here and do nothing and a second ago you weren’t afraid of that eventuality. What’s the matter, the reality too close for you now?”
Kit flinched at the comment, obviously irritated that his bluff had been called.
“I’m in.” A small voice from the back said. The others all turned and stared.
“What?” Par said
Kate stepped forward. “You heard me. I said, I’m in.” She looked straight at Wyatt and smiled. “Any hope is better than no hope at all,” she said. He smiled back at her.
“Well, seeing as we have supporters for both sides of the argument, I suggest we put it to a vote. So…those who say we go…” He raised his hand along with Kate. Byron also, slowly raised his hand. Bobby looked long and hard at the others before raising hers and then Chris, reluctantly joined them. Both Par and Kit abstained. Wyatt frowned. Why was Par so against them going? There seemed to be no logical argument for not trying.
“Well, that’s decided, then. We go.” He looked at Par and Kit, “You guys are welcome to come along for the ride.”
* * * * *
“Okay, empty your packs of all their traps and fill them with supplies. We may need to get out of the ship quickly when we touch down, so let’s be prepared before we go,” Wyatt said. “When you’re done, meet me in the cryosleep room.”
* * * * *
They stood in a small circle in the center of the cryosleep chamber, next to the empty cylinders they had vacated only a few days ago. “Now, because this isn’t a passenger ship we have only two seats on the bridge. One for the pilot, one for the co-pilot. Seeing as it’s going to be a pretty rough landing at best, the safest place for you to be is back in your inactive cryosleep chambers. You may get thrown around a little, but at least you’ll be secure. Any objections?”
No one said anything, resigned to the fact that this was how it was going to be.
“Good. Secure your packs and guns in the overhead hatches and lock them shut. I want Byron on the bridge with me, the rest of you are down here.” He hoisted his pack off the floor and onto one shoulder, then looked at Chris and Kate. “You two…follow me.” He turned and walked out of the room.
* * * * *
The three of them stood in the lift in silence. The seriousness of the reality they had discussed was slowly sinking in now that plans were being executed. When the door opened again the corridor in front of them was dark. Wyatt strode out purposefully, his boots clanking on the metal grating underfoot. Chris and Kate followed quietly behind. They turned into a new corridor and Wyatt stopped where a panel had been slid aside. He reached into the opening and lifted one of the quad-sys guns out of the rack. He gave it a quick look over. “You know how to use one of these?” he asked of Chris.
“Well, I…er…I did basic training so…”
“Good.” Wyatt thrust the weapon at him. Chris caught it with both hands at chest height and had to take a step back to regain his balance, so firm was Wyatt’s action. He lifted another gun out of the rack and held it toward Kate. She looked back at him, her eyes flitting between him and the gun. “Take it,” he said.
“But I…”
“Take it.”
“I don’t want a gun.”
“You need one. Take it. We’ll show you how to use it later but you need it with you now.”
Kate gingerly lifted the gun out of Wyatt’s hands. It was heavy! She looked at it in disgust.
“Now get back and join the others. I’m going up to the bridge.”
The pair of them turned and headed back down the corridor. Wyatt set off in the opposite direction.
“Oh and, sir…” Wyatt heard Chris say behind him. He stopped and turned. Chris was looking at him from the far end of the corridor. “Just wanted to say…well, good luck, sir.”
Wyatt nodded. A quick, confident action. “Good luck to us all,” he said and smiled. Chris saluted him, and beyond him Kate was looking back at him too, smiling. A brilliant smile. It lifted his heart. He nodded again and then turned away.
* * * * *
When he stepped through the newly opened space and onto the bridge, Wyatt saw Byron seated in the left seat, his hands moving over the consoles in front of him. He placed his pack in one of the storage hatches, shut and locked it. “How we doing?” he asked, walking over to join his friend.
“Pretty much done,” Byron replied. “All the coordinates are punched in. Altitude requirements are set, as are firing times. Basically it’s all in the hands of our computer after we lift off.”
“
Fine. Good work. Mind if I check things over?”
“Be my guest.”
Wyatt ran through the flight sequence. Byron was true to his word, everything was exactly as required. “Excellent.” He turned to Byron. “Good work, my friend,” he said and offered his hand. Byron took it and shook it firmly, then stopped the action but still grasped the hand.
“Good luck, Wyatt,” he said. “Everyone knows this is the only thing we can do. Their silence is just a manifestation of their fear. Don’t interpret it as a lack of support. We’re all with you on this one.”
“Well, I don’t know about all!”
“The people who count are with you.” Byron gripped his hand tighter. Wyatt’s brow furrowed. What a strange thing to say. He nodded all the same.
“Let’s do it,” he said.
The pair of them began to buckle themselves into their seats, pulling straps from their sides and over their shoulders and feeding them into a central clip. Wyatt pulled on his headset and adjusted the microphone. Reaching forward, he patched the intercom through to the cryosleep room. “You all ready down there? Over.”
Bobby’s voice was loud in his ears. “Give me a few seconds to get into my chamber, but then it’s all yours. See you at the other end.” There was a pause. Bobby had not signed off. Her voice came again. “Good luck, Wyatt. Over,” she said.
“Yeah, you too.” he said. Then he said it again, but quieter. He took a deep breath and leaned forward, touching a console. The ship’s nose began to descend. “Let’s get this show on the road,” he said with a sigh.
* * * * *
“Launch sequence initiated,” the computer stated into Wyatt’s headset. This is it. No turning back now. “Ten…Nine…Eight…Generator power re-routed to drive system…Five…Four…Drive engaged…” There was a rumbling from the bowels of the ship and Wyatt could feel the vibration through his seat. He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer to himself. “…Three…Two…” The rumble was rapidly becoming louder and the vibration increasing in intensity. “…One.” And then there seemed to be an incredibly long period of time before the computer said, “Lift off”
Wyatt sensed rather than felt the ship move and then he could see the trees in front of them passing before their eyes as the Santa Maria slowly gained altitude. “Ten feet…” the computer’s voice came again. “…Twenty…” Wyatt looked at Byron, he was mouthing something, his lips moving but no sound coming out. His eyes were closed.
The trees continued to pass, their great branches and leafy boughs moving from the force of the winds that the drive system had whipped up outside. Waving farewell to the unwelcome craft whose brief visit had decimated their kin.
“One hundred feet…One hundred and fifty feet…” The treetops passed from view and the computer began the maneuver to put the Santa Maria on the correct heading. The ship began a lazy turn, the panorama beyond the crafts windows sliding from left to right. Their rate of ascent was now accelerating. “…One thousand feet…”
At seven thousand feet they reached the band of mauve cloud. The horizon vanished as the view beyond the windows was obliterated. It was impossible to make anything out through it and Wyatt could not even hazard a guess at its composition. They broke through it quickly.
“…Twenty thousand feet…” The count increased and Wyatt was sure, his heart rate was climbing with it. Each new announcement caused him an intake of breath as they came closer to their target altitude.
“…Thirty thousand feet…thirty-one…thirty-two…booster sequence initiated…” Wyatt grabbed the arms of his chair. His palms were sweaty against the cool leather. “…thirty four…Boosters firing” With startling force, Wyatt was pressed back into his chair, his head thrust back against the rest designed for it. He strained to look down at his arm and saw that he was gripping the seat so tightly that his veins stood out like rails.
* * * * *
In the lower decks, the sound from the drive system had been incredibly loud. Coupled now with the roar from the solid rocket boosters the noise was deafening. When the latter had kicked in Kate had been thrown so hard against the wall of her cryosleep chamber that she had yelled in pain. She clung tightly to ‘furball,’ but was acutely aware not to hold too tightly even though she was absolutely petrified. The animal was also scared and had urinated on her as they had been tossed around in the chamber. Kate could feel the warm patch through her shirt but was grateful of it. Grateful of anything that could take her mind off the noise that was so loud now that it hurt. She closed her eyes tight and thought of all the things that had brought her here. Her expedition and the events that had transpired so far flashed through her mind’s eye in an instant. She then thought of her mother, her father, her home back on Earth. Everything good in life. And then she thought of Wyatt.
* * * * *
Wyatt was having difficulty breathing. The forces on his body were so great that he could only take tiny, shallow breaths. White dots began to dance before his eyes. He was just about to black out when the pressure abated and he slumped forward in his chair. He remained there for a moment, grateful for the release, and then he sat upright, aware of something, or rather, aware of nothing. The roar of the engines had vanished. It was eerily silent.
Slowly, he began to feel the straps across his shoulders tighten and he began to lift off his seat. They had begun their descent. They were, as Par had so rightly put it, dropping like a stone.
* * * * *
Bobby could sense that they were falling. She placed her hands up against the chamber’s cover glass to push her back firmly against the cylinder’s floor. She felt a thud, which she guessed was the drive system kicking in for a second time. They were getting close to the end. She braced herself for the impact and shouted to the others to do the same, unsure of whether they would hear her or not. It seemed to her to have been both the longest and shortest flight of her life.
* * * * *
They had passed so quickly through the band of mauve cloud, which, Wyatt remembered was at seven thousand feet, that had he blinked, he would have missed it. Instantly, there was a jolt as the drive system made a vain attempt to slow them at six thousand feet as it had been instructed to. Very shortly afterwards the Santa Maria crash landed.
* * * * *
When they hit, anything that was not secure took off. Wyatt was briefly aware of hatches falling open and loose articles flying past him. Outside there was a brilliant flash of white, and then darkness. He felt a fire in his chest where he had been pushed hard against the straps and the buckle and then his world became black.
* * * * *
In his semi-consciousness, Wyatt instinctively hit the clip on his chest to release the straps it held. He cried out with the pain that it caused him and fell back in his chair until the agony subsided. He tried to open his eyes but the light was brilliant and he could only squint. For a moment he honestly believed he was dead, but then, as his eyes adjusted to the light, he could see that bright sunlight was streaming in through the two tiny windows in front of him. “We made it,” he said quietly. “Byron, we made it!” But there was no reply.
His head lolled as he turned to look at his friend. Byron was hunched over in his seat. He was not moving and his eyes were closed. “Oh no,” Wyatt said. “No. Not now!”
He carefully picked himself out of his chair, hurting in places he did not know could hurt. Staggering over to Byron’s seat he called, “Byron, can you hear me?” Nothing. He said it again. Again nothing. An image of Chris crouched over Alex’s body flashed into his mind and he shuddered. He was behaving exactly as Chris had done only two days ago. He took Byron’s wrist and felt for a pulse. It was there and it was strong. Byron had obviously passed out exactly as Wyatt had, his body’s way of saying enough punishment was enough. Grasping both shoulders, Wyatt pushed Byron back into his seat. “Byron,” he whispered, giving his friend a gentle shake. “Byron,” he said again, shaking him more vigorously. Byron moaned and Wyatt quickly released him, s
uddenly realizing that Byron could have internal injuries and he could be causing more harm.
“Wha…” Byron murmured.
“Byron. We made it! We’re alive!”
“We are?” Byron mumbled.
“Yes, we are.”
Byron slowly opened his eyes. “We are,” he said again with more conviction, a smile breaking over his face. “God, I hurt all over,” he added, rubbing his chest and frowning.
* * * * *
In the cryosleep chamber Chris was the first to come around. He put a hand to the back of his head and pulled it away quickly with a sharp intake of breath. Yes, there was a lump there already. He pushed the cover glass up and slowly he climbed out of the cylinder. He limped his way around the room, rapping on the other cylinders with his knuckles, making sure the others were moving.
Soon, Bobby and Par had joined him, all of them rubbing joints and examining bruises which the short flight had endowed upon them. Kate pushed open her cover glass and Furball leapt out of her hands and darted around the room. As it approached the door, the sensor detected the motion and the door slid away. Furball ran out and disappeared.
“Hey! No!” Kate shouted, but the creature was gone. She climbed out of the chamber and undid the hatch above it. Her pack fell to the floor as she pulled it out, heavy with supplies. She lifted it onto her shoulders, moaning about the weight and the additional pains she now had to contend with. “I’m going after Furball,” she said. “I’ll meet you at the bridge like we arranged.” The others were too dazed or too concerned with their own discomfort to really register what she had said. Kate stepped through the door at a rather sedate pace, realizing she hurt in more places than she originally thought.
