Marooned on Eden

by Robert L. Forward

  "We've chosen Nels and Cinnamon, both," she said. "They outperform as a team better than both of them separately, if you can follow that! And there will certainly be plenty of interest to them in these weird plants. Nels will enjoy stretching those new legs of his," she added knowingly. I caught the tiny wince of remorse—she had, for so long, felt an antipathy for his flawed physique. "That will leave Deirdre in charge of the hydroponics lab—she'll enjoy that. But it sure will be quiet on that deck while we're away."

  "Carmen is going too. I know she was unwell, but she's better now than I've ever seen her, and anxious to do outstanding work. I think she can." I agreed, silently.

  "Then there's going to be David . . ." I was pleased with that. With both David and me on the mission, the vehicle computers would perform exceptionally.

  "And Richard . . ." I liked that too. Although his person is certainly attractive, it's his sense of what is funny which I most enjoy. He has that trick, which I suspect is a gift, of punning with ease and speed on almost any subject. The others groan, but as an appreciator of words, I find this talent irresistible and am reduced to helpless giggles, though of course I conceal that carefully.

  "Shirley's going too . . ." That was not a surprise. Jinjur and Shirley were a smooth-working team of long standing, and Jinjur knows she can rely absolutely on Shirley's integrity and capability as an engineer to keep the exploration spacecraft operating.

  "And John as medic. That makes ten." I was a little less pleased with this last selection, particularly when I considered Jinjur's confrontations with him herself! But I shall try to be optimistic about their desire to cooperate. Quickly I tallied up the list.

  "Ten? I counted nine . . ."

  "Oh, and Arielle. She can pilot the last airplane. She'll like that," she said positively, and I was almost as thrilled as I'd been for myself. It will be so good to see her at the controls of another Dragonfly! I understood, now, the radiant smile Arielle had given me as she passed me in the corridor—I had thought it was due to the size of the piece of cake she was carrying.

  This morning has been an exciting one. Those of us who have been selected are striving to conceal our elation, and those who are staying aboard Prometheus are vocal in their disappointment. Elizabeth, particularly, who's had no training in military obedience to orders, is openly unhappy.

  "George, dammit, I really wanted to go on this one!"

  George did his best. "I know, Red, I know. Think I don't want to go too? But we took the choices one by one, and I think we've got a crew which will make the most efficient use of that few months. Don't get too steamed up, old girl. We've still got lots of smaller moons to visit with almost no gravity to cope with, like Zoroaster, Zwingli, and Zeus. We can reach those easily with one of our left-over Ascent Modules, and your asteroid prospecting experience will be invaluable for exploring those bodies. Also, some day we will need to return the Littles back to the rest of themselves on Rocheworld. We'll certainly need your piloting experience then, to fly an Ascent Module down to the zero gravity point between the two lobes, and rendezvous with Dragonfly Two with its crew of flouwen and gummies. There's explorations ahead for all of us—enough to keep us busy for the rest of our lives!

  This statement of the obvious made all of us, drifting near in the hall, feel better. The crew, intelligent, well-trained, and chosen for compatibility years ago, are in no danger of succumbing to envy. Those of us to go are soberly planning our work and preparing for our needs, and those remaining behind are able to put aside their disappointment enough to help prepare the Beagle for its voyage of exploration.

  I had, already, privately decided what I would most assuredly take with me if I were selected. I suspect we have all done that! Certainly the task of packing our personal belongings aboard the Beagle has gone with amazing speed—and it is a curious coincidence that these personal bundles fit precisely and neatly into the compartments on the second of the three compact decks comprising the crew quarters of the Beagle. I have just time to make a brief inspection of my own living area before returning to my shift. The next few days are going to be very busy indeed.

  Once on Zuni's surface, we plan to spend our working shifts outdoors, returning to the Beagle for meals and sleep. The information we gather throughout the day will all be entered and stored by Joe and James, so we will be able to pursue our tasks independent of each other. This is the way in which we are accustomed to working, but I have long felt it would be more pleasant and productive if we spent more time in serious discussions of our work. We have got in the habit of relating all of our findings and experiments only to James, so that, for instance, while I know of Nels' results in the creation of edible substances by eating them, I haven't any real grasp of how he got to that stage! And, while I could procure the data from James, on that or any other work in progress, it has always seemed to me to be uncomfortably close to reading another's mail, and I notice we all scrupulously avoid it. Living in such close proximity, we relate more intimately with the central computer than with each other, and while it does make for easier harmony, it sometimes seems to be unnatural. However, it may well be that on the surface of Zuni we find some exciting things to share, and being in a sense "away from home," our own enthusiasm will lead to interesting conversations. I hope so!

  Our flouwen have no reticence at all about their eagerness to begin the trip. They will spend the orbital survey time in a portion of the tank which runs from the bottom of the docking lock down through the center of the next two decks. This space was originally designated for the storage of replacement air and water, and was designed with plenty of extra capacity. Now we must recalculate our requirements with great accuracy and only take as much as we need. Shirley and the Christmas Bush shortened the length of the high pressure air tank and the low pressure water tank by half, leaving the top half of the column free to hold the flouwen in the ammonia-water mixture they prefer. A glass window now replaces the metal inspection and cleaning port, and we can peer in at our colorful alien comrades as we step off the passway ladder rungs leading from the engineering deck onto the crew deck.

  The flouwen have their own waterproof touchscreen connected to Joe, which allows them access to views seen by the Christmas Bush, any of our imps, or any of the lander's outside sensors, so they are not limited in their sensory input. It is cramped quarters for all three flouwen, however, so they take turns floating about the Beagle enclosed in their wetsuits, bothering the crew with their continual questions, and only going into their tank to rest and eat. They make the switch from their wetsuits to the tank via a flexible transfer tube Shirley rigged from their tank to the inside of the docking airlock in the center of the upper deck.

  The flouwen go into the airlock in their suits, open their zipper, and stick the end of the transfer tube into their bodies. Joe opens an electronically controlled valve in the transfer line, and sucks the flouwen out of their suits and into their rest and relaxation center. The valve closes, and the airlock opens to the outside vacuum for a short time to vent the ammonia fumes away, then closes again. When the flouwen are ready to come out of the tank, the process is reversed, except that the spilled ammonia in the port is vented to the outside after the flouwen has filled up the suit and zipped it closed, but before he enters the portion of the Beagle occupied by humans.

  In addition to air and water, the mass of food needed for three extra-large and extra-hungry companions is a concern. John's computations of our individual calorie rations have been ruthlessly meticulous. Arielle's needs are much higher than my own, a fact of which I am well aware.

  "You're an easy keeper!" was the remark of a horse-breeder I had once loved in Argentina. He'd accompanied the words with a beautiful smile and an affectionate pat, but I'd left the next day.

  During our shift, David and I began, with James, our strictest examination and checkout of the computer controlled systems aboard the Beagle. While the Christmas Bush surveyed, inch by inch, the exterior and interior of the plane
, David and I started with the launch sequence. We were proceeding steadily, when, in almost apologetic tones, James interrupted.

  "The Christmas Bush informs me that latch 0079 will not open."

  We looked at each other, then at the screens, in dismay. Quickly we drifted upward to examine the faulty latch, which had jammed shut a storage compartment.

  "Damn!" said David. "It's not serious, but it didn't show up on my routine scan!"

  "Nor on mine," I agreed regretfully. Together we pried open the latch with tools from the in-flight maintenance kit. This compartment is important to have accessible, as it contains the spacesuits needed for outside repair work and the launching of the commsats.

  "Now, we've got to get the thing relatched and workable. I'll get Shirley," David decided. This was a good choice; no one is better than she at repairing this sort of thing so that it stays repaired. Then James summoned us to another possible problem, this time in one of the landing jets.

  "Arielle's the one we want for this," we decided, and once again, we were successful in correcting the problem.

  Arielle looked at the outputs of the engineering sensors for the recalcitrant jet, and fired it three times in quick succession, which cleared it beautifully.

  "Vapor bubble," she said succinctly, and drifted back to the galley.

  Thus our tests and inspection continued, and will do so right up until launch. Every seal, every filter for air and water, every measuring device and evaluating recorder need to be in the perfect condition they were originally, although the lander has hung here unused for nearly fifty years. We must be sure nothing has deteriorated or altered, even so slightly that, as with the latch, no indication of malfunction had registered with James.

  At the conclusion of my shift today I was satisfied that every part of the computer system aboard the Beagle is in excellent working order. David and I have gone through the sequences, from our launch, through the deployment of the satellites, to our landing on Zuni, and our return to Prometheus. Shirley and Arielle have gone through the same procedures, independently, and James has monitored every step.

  When I came off duty I was ready for a quiet meal. I elected to have the comfort of a bowl of porridge; perversely, I had become fond of this innocent food when I discovered how it freed me from the nuisance of hunger in a busy day, and a supply of the humble grain was part of my personal stores, periodically renewed by means of a special planting by the hydroponics crew. Along with an equal supply of barley, and the fiery chili with which the Christmas Bush could supply me on demand, my needs were met most fully. I took the bowl along the corridor, and hearing no sound, went into the big lounge area on Prometheus. I was surprised to see George there, alone on the big sofa, staring out the three-by-four meter window. The panoramic view was spectacular—Zuni below, Gargantua to one side, and nearly all the moons visible and fully illuminated by Barnard behind us. He glanced quickly at me and smiled as I settled slowly down beside him.

  "Well, Reiki! I hope that's one of your special meals you have there—if all continues well, your next may be one of the camping creations aboard the Beagle."

  "I'll enjoy that," I said sincerely. "Are we as nearly ready as that?"

  "Everyone says so except Jinjur," he grinned. "And I expect she'd say so too, if I could get her attention. I really think she has launched herself, and is too many miles away to hear me. I miss her already!"

  He returned his gaze to the swirling cloud patterns of Zuni visible through the viewport. I have been so absorbed in getting ready to make this trip, and I know we will be so busy on the trip itself—it felt strange just to sit and stare, with quiet detachment, at our destination. So must early explorers have felt, as their small ships headed close inshore to foreign lands. Gradually most of the rest of the crew joined us, content to share in the silence.

  It was late when George slowly rose, stretched, and said in his most ponderous tones, "Explorers of Zuni, I sincerely trust you will follow the magnificent precedent, set so long ago by the dauntless explorer Joshua Slocum, after he waded ashore on the small uncharted island he discovered off the coast of South America . . ."

  We sat, stunned, searching our memories. Richard said, slowly, "Wait. Didn't he put up a sign . . .?"

  "Yes," said George firmly. "Keep Off The Grass!"

  It was time to go to bed.

  LANDING

  The launch this morning of the Beagle from its docking berth on Prometheus went like the beautifully planned exercise it was. With Shirley and Cinnamon in the pilot and copilot harnesses, Jinjur and Carmen at the command and communication consoles, all the rest of us firmly strapped into our sleeping racks waved cheerfully at the monitoring cameras as we watched the hull of Prometheus slowly slide away on the individual viewscreens built into the Sound-Bar doors of our compact cabins. Our leisurely glide out to an equatorial orbit where we are to deploy the first commsat has been an entrancing panorama of the moons. As the Beagle moves among the moons, and they continue their various orbits, the view is constantly changing for us. First Zouave, then Zuni, then Zulu move into a position where Barnard's light illuminates the hemisphere facing us. Using the large telescope mounted on the topside of the Beagle, we can spot various features in the landscapes of each. There is a tall mountain rising up out of the everpresent smog, near the north pole of Zouave, as sharp and pure of line as Mt. Fuji, and although I have never been homesick, it seemed to blur for an instant in my sight. And there is what appears to be a lake on Zulu that is so perfectly triangular we all chuckled—it looks as though it has been carefully dug!

  We're near the first commsat deployment site now, and John and Carmen have lifted an orbiter from its temporary berth on the engineering deck, taken it through the airlock, and tossed it gently into space. I can hear their terse comments, through my own imp, and visualize what's happening as they talk to the robot.

  "OK, Russell, you're on your own now," came Carmen's voice. "You can start your deployment sequence."

  "Right," came the distinctive, yet mechanical voice of the commsat. "My solar array is going out. Moving . . .moving . . .at full extension . . .now."

  "Looks good to me," said John.

  "High-gain antenna, unlatched," said Russell. "Command to track back and forth . . .done. Are my gimbals working? My sensors say so."

  "Very smooth," replied Carmen. "But my imp reports that James says the communication with Prometheus is intermittent."

  "Try again," suggested John. "Bring it back. May be a procedural error."

  "OK," said Russell. "Out again. Up. Command."

  "Still intermittent," reported Carmen. "Try B transponder."

  "Switching to B transponder," said Russell.

  "James says its perfect," said Carmen. "Try A transponder."

  "Intermittent again," reported Carmen. "An electronics failure in A. Let's go with B."

  "Right," said Russell. "B transponder commanded. After I get into position, while B keeps up the link, I'll use my motile to see if I can correct A."

  Beagle before you start sail deployment, Bob," Carmen said.

  "I am programmed to orient my axis toward you, so you can watch deployment," said Bob, as gyros whirled inside the spacecraft body and slowly turned the base of the satellite toward the open airlock door containing the two spacesuited humans. "Deployment commencing." Slowly, four collapsible booms started to unfurl from the central package, drawing with them a thin wisp of finely perforated aluminum foil. Although the film was highly reflective, it was so thin it was almost transparent, for I could see the bright reddish globe of distant Mars-like Zapotec shining right through it.

  "Looks good," said John, surveying the emerging acres of lightsail for tears or wrinkles.

  "Deployment completed," said Bob an hour later. "No indication of any malfunctions." The statite, now being pushed to higher and higher speeds by the light pressure of the photons from Barnard, started to drift away from the heavier rocket lander.

  "Perfect!" said Ca
rmen. "You look very pretty all lit up like that—and so big. Like a butterfly coming out of a cocoon."

  "Now that you've got wings, you can fly to your position over the north pole," said John. "Check in with James when you get there."

  "Will comply," radioed Bob. Then the voice channel went dead as the statite moved off to a position over the north polar region of Zuni where the light pressure on the sail from Barnard would exactly counterbalance the gravity pull from Zuni. The sail would also adjust in effective size and angle to compensate for the smaller gravity tugs from the other moons.

  The process was then repeated for the second statite, Arthur, whose designated position was over the south pole of Zuni. Now, with two statites to cover the poles, and three orbiters to cover the equatorial regions, we would be in constant communication with Prometheus no matter where we traveled on the multicolored globe of Zuni in the Dragonfly VTOL aeroplane.

  With our communications network set up, the next task before the actual landing is a complete, detailed survey of the landing area to make sure there are no surprises. We have excellent maps and images of St. Vincent island and Crater Lagoon taken by the science orbiter Bruce and Linda's large telescope on Prometheus, but the resolution was not as good as it should be, so Shirley put the Beagle into a elliptical orbit with its perigee right over Crater Lagoon, and a period almost exactly equal to Zuni's sidereal rotation period. By making slight orbital adjustments at apogee, she expertly shifted our time of arrival over the lagoon from early in the morning on the first day, to late in the afternoon on the fifth day. The different illumination and shadows from images taken at different times of the day will help in interpreting the scene and allow an estimation of the height of the various topographic features. During the low level flyovers of the landing site, most of us stay in the lounge, looking out the large viewport built into the hull of the lander. The viewport had been installed just for this purpose—to allow the crew to look out at the strange worlds to be found around Barnard. During these last hours, I welcomed my own time at the science console, monitoring the various instruments imaging the electromagnetic spectrum; the work helped to dissipate the suspense that is gradually building. I could see both Richard and David were also eager to take their stint in turn, and the pilots and copilots were equally quick to work. We are all striving to be accurate as we complete the detailed survey of our landing site and transmit all of the information to James, but we are eager to land!