by Maggie Allen
“Hello, I’m Chen.”
The co-pilot looked back with a start. “You need to be in your seat.”
Chen shrugged, clicking the button on the bottom of the bunny’s tummy to the right behind her back, “I just wanted to see where the magic happens. Sorry!”
“She can come in for just a second.” The pilot placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Thank you.” Chen stood next to the older woman with bright silver streaks in her black hair. With one hand, she pointed to a control panel, asking, “What’s that do?” while the other hand placed the stuffed toy under the pilot’s chair.
“This is for lateral thrusters; we need those to turn the ship right-side-up for entry.” The wrinkles next to her creasing lips flicked up into a smile for Chen.
Chen nodded, “That’s really cool. What about this panel?”
She was allowed to ask questions for another three minutes, and she figured that was long enough for her mother to believe she’d gone to the restroom.
When she got back, Shuzhen muttered under her breath, “What were you doing in there, reciting Lao-tzu’s prayers?”
“Would you finally be proud of me if I was?” Chen glared with defiance as she strapped herself into her chair.
Shuzhen’s head pulled back in surprise. “I am proud of you. This was hard for you, I know, and you’ve always had so much responsibility hanging over your head. I remember what it was like being a teen.” She leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling. Chen recognized the movement; it meant her mother was pushing the tears back into her eyes.
“But we have a duty, an honor, and we need to fulfill it. We will be the teachers; we will show our people how to rebuild.” Her words struck Chen as the speakers on their wrists came to life all at once.
“Brace yourselves for departure. Sixteen, fifteen, fourteen…”
Oh no. Chen felt she may have made a terrible mistake. The trip was everything to her mother. Her eyes scanned the faces of her people.
“Nine, eight, seven…”
They were all so happy, so ready to return to their land, Earth—a place they’d never set foot on, nor their parents, or their parents’ parents.
“Two, one, zero.”
The ship jostled hard, and cheering erupted from the gleeful smiles of her friends, family, neighbors. Gravity lessened until she felt her hands lifting lazily from the arm rests. Nausea took her as she relived the moment of planting the bunny, realizing she had destroyed all their happiness.
“Wait, Mama—”
“No, Chen!” The shouts dampened the sound of her mother’s fury, blending it into background noise, but it cut through her.
“We can’t go back, it’s too late,” Shuzhen said with finality.
Chen stammered, “But, Mǔqīn, I…”
“We can’t go back.” She leaned down to Chen’s ear. “There was enough fuel for only one trip—that was all we had. We left all the others behind, perhaps for hundreds of years. Until we can rebuild on Earth and send a shuttle up with fuel, they are trapped on Xiao-ping.”
Chen’s stomach dropped away. They could never get back to Earth if their journey didn’t succeed, but her best friend was trapped on the space station forever if they did go. Chen would have to live out her days in a place she couldn’t call home, friendless.
“Mama,” her vision blurred as her eyes welled with tears, “I did something.”
Shuzhen swallowed, her throat visibly constricting as she did. “What did you do?”
“Robert gave me something to give him control of the ship, so he can turn it around. I turned it on, and placed it in the cockpit.”
Chen finally thought to question why Robert had the device, and why he wanted her to place it on the ship. Had he really ever been her friend, or was he using her to carry out the deed he could not?
Shuzhen’s face became a pale stone. It was as if she was looking through Chen, through the wall, and out into space. Her voice was low and breathy. “Which cockpit?”
It was Chen’s turn to gulp back fear as she pointed, “Over there.”
“Stay right here.” Shuzhen unstrapped the harness and floated easily in the zero gravity.
Chen’s gut roiled as the terror took hold in her. Everything was ruined, and it was all her fault.
Suddenly, her bracelet came to life, “Chen.” It was Robert.
“There isn’t enough fuel for the ship to take another trip,” she exclaimed in a whisper.
“I know.” His voice was a stab to her heart.
She whimpered, “But why?”
“Chen, humans don’t belong on Earth. We destroyed it once, and we’ll do it again.”
So he had used her; she didn’t have any friends, after all.
He went on, his words piercing deeper and deeper. “Unsnap your harness and head towards the stern. The twelve lifeboats there are still functional. Any one of them will get you close enough to Xiao-ping for you to get picked up by a drone.”
Chen realized everyone around her was silent, floating lifelessly. Yanking herself free, she checked the nearest person’s pulse. They were still alive.
“Chen, what are you doing?”
“Why aren’t I asleep like the others?”
He was quiet for a long time, but finally spoke. “Because you’re my friend, and a cultural leader. I don’t want humanity to die out, we just can’t return to the Earth. These space stations can provide for us indefinitely, as long as the sun shines. Whatever creatures have emerged from the toxic era will have the paradise to themselves for eternity.”
“But, why did you make them fall asleep? How?”
“There was never going to be enough fuel to turn the ship around and come back to Xiao-ping, but I knew I could save you if the others didn’t get in the way.”
Chen’s head was spinning. How could he do it to her, to them? They would all die, she knew it. He would take remote control of the ship and burn it up in the atmosphere. Her mother, Wu-Bō, and so many others would be dead. She hated Robert.
“Chen, it’s time to get to the lifeboat.”
“You used me for your agenda,” she growled as she pushed towards the cockpit.
Robert’s voice wavered, “I didn’t want to, but I wasn’t invited to join the first wave.”
The corpse-like body of her mother bounced gently from the ceiling to the wall, and Chen pushed her down into an empty seat. She strapped the harness in place and proceeded back on course.
“I’m not going to let you do this,” she whispered as she searched the pilot’s chair for the deadly toy.
Robert sounded panicked. “Chen, there is no autopilot for this craft! You can’t fly it!”
“My attempt to save them will be better than your attempt to condemn them.” The device was in her hand, but she waited. Waited to see if he would come to his senses, save her and the others. She was mortified. She didn’t want to do it alone, but if he forced her, she would at least try.
“Chen, don’t do this. Come home,” he pleaded, but she could not abandon her mother and all her people.
She shook her head and flipped the switch. “I am going home.”
With trembling fingers she tapped in the call for the Xiao-ping operator and then unhooked the pilot from her seat.
“Shuttle, we lost all communication. What happened?” A relieved sounding man came through her speaker.
“My name is Chen Li. I need to talk to someone who knows how to fly this ship, immediately. Everyone has been poisoned, they’re asleep, and I’m the only one to fly it. Hurry.”
The man choked on his breath, “Yes, right away!”
The line was quiet as Chen guided the pilot back to her own seat and secured her in place.
“Who is this?” A familiar voice came on, and Chen knew it was one of the backup mission pilots who didn’t make the first wave.
“Chen Li, sir. I don’t have time to explain what happened right now, but you need to help me guide this ship down.” She pulle
d herself into the pilot seat, fingers electric with terrified excitement as they touched the controls.
“This is unbelievable,” he breathed. “Okay, are you at the console?”
“Yeah,” her voice cracked and she cleared it, then stated with more emphasis, “yes.”
“Good. First thing you need to do is the retrofire burn. On the panel labeled 4 there is a button that will say FWDT, that’s the forward thrust. Input a value of 23 in the keypad, and press that button.”
Chen followed the instructions, and the ship began to tremble. Her stomach lurched as she felt the pitch of the cabin adjust. Vibrations changed the sound of her voice as she spoke, “What’s next?”
“All right, you’ll need to turn to panel 1, and find the button labeled OMS, that’s the Orbital Maneuvering System. Press it, then flip the yellow switch next to it with the letters s-2 under it, and enter .02.”
Again, Chen followed directions, and the shuttle shook harder.
“No, that’s too much! Turn it off!”
“How?” she shrieked in horror.
“Turn off the s-2 switch! Enter .01 in the keypad and flip the switch labeled p-1, then enter .01 again and flip p-2.”
Chen’s entire arm shook as she clumsily carried out the instructions. Eventually, the shaking reduced to a shuddering.
He sighed, “Great work, Chen. Okay, we’re going to keep doing that on and off for about twenty minutes as we get the entry angle right.”
“I can’t do this!” she burst out, tears streaming down her face.
“Don’t say that. We’ll get through this together. We’re all here for you, Chen.”
Silent sobs racked her chest and she held a hand over her mouth until she could quiet.
“Thank you.”
Twenty minutes took an eternity, but by the end of it, Chen had a good grasp of the control layout. Next, they adjusted the angle of the shuttle, and dumped the remaining fuel from the p-1 and s-1 thrusters.
“You’re going to start your descent into the upper atmosphere, and we might lose you a bit.”
The dread gnawing at her insides quickly degenerated into hysteria as she cried, “You can’t leave me! I can’t do this without you!”
“Yes, you can. You’re already doing better than one of the co-pilots who applied for the mission.”
She took five deep breaths and calmed herself. “All right. What’s next? What do I need to know if we lose contact?”
“The aft thrusters need to maintain a 65% burn to keep you at a 40 degree attitude. Carefully watch the latitude pitch, and don’t allow it to leave .5 degrees from the normal. You can see you’re in the green right now.”
She made mental notes of these things and chanted them under her breath.
“Then you’re in luck, and you can turn on the autopilot for the lower atmosphere descent. By that time, we’ll have you back in contact, and I’ll help you again.” He guided her to where all the buttons were, ran through the procedure three times to ensure she had it memorized, and then the ship became more erratic.
“What’s happening?” Chen gripped her shoulder harness tightly.
The pilot’s voice was beginning to crackle, “You’re hitting the atmosphere and creating heat. The ionized gasses are surrounding the ship, and we’re going to lose contact soon, for about ten to fifteen minutes.”
“What?” she shrilled.
His voice was even more distorted, “Remember what I told you. 65% aft thrust, 40-degree attitude. You can do this Chen, we believe—”
Her only life-line cut out. She was completely alone.
The ship shuddered, and a red light began flashing on the dashboard. They were drifting out of alignment. She sniffled hard, wiping the last of her tears on the back of her hand, and got to work. Panel 2 began flashing, then 3. Her fingers flew from one place to the next, doing the job of two grown adults.
One dreadful minute turned into two, then five. Each second passed more quickly than the one which came before, and by ten paralyzingly exhilarating minutes, she had all of the beeps and flashes down to twenty second intervals.
“Just a few more minutes, Chen. You can do this,” she shouted to herself over the loud vibration coming from below.
The ship jolted hard, and then again. All three panels were flashing red, throwing her into a frenzy. She flipped every switch, pressed every correcting button, but nothing helped. As the shaking increased and her arms were smacking wildly against the keypads, she surrendered to the inevitable. She’d failed.
Her fingers gripped the edges of the armrest tightly, and she closed her eyes.
“It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay,” she chanted, her tiny voice a cruel reminder of the end closing in around her.
The shuttle bumped, and then everything was quiet. The beeping ceased, the vibrations were gone, and her eyelids shone through with a white glow. Chen didn’t think the afterlife would be so silent. When she opened her eyes, she saw a vast blue expanse beyond the tiny cockpit windows.
She sucked in a long breath as the shuttle soared through misty white clouds, painting the glass with droplets of water.
“Chen! Ca- you -ear us?” The speaker on her bracelet came to life.
She whooped with joy, tears still damp on her cheeks. “I can hear you!”
“You did it! You made it!” She heard cries of excitement in the background, clapping, and sobs.
She engaged the autopilot as they cleared the clouds, revealing an endless curve of green. The Xiao-ping station chatter faded as a rushing took over her ears. She heard her heart beat with the rhythm of the ocean waves below. The history of a hundred trillion humans, animals, plants, and single celled organisms was laid out before her, and she, Chen—the Dawn—finally understood.
They had to be gentle and kind, not only to one another, but also to the Earth and to the creatures living on it. Their paradise was fragile; it needed care and dedication. Her heart burst with the joy of responsibility to her people, and her home, as she gazed upon the sea of jade she could never have fathomed. It was so vibrant, so alive, and so much bigger than it looked from her view on Xiao-ping.
“How does it feel?” The pilot’s words cut through her trance.
She stuttered, “How does what feel?”
“Being the first human on the Earth in three hundred and twenty-nine years?”
She smiled, feeling her sarcastic wit return, “It’s all right.”
Also by Dreaming Robot Press
2015 Young Explorer’s Adventure Guide
2016 Young Explorer’s Adventure Guide
Middle Grade Fantasy by Dreaming Robot Press
The Seventh Crow
When you can’t remember most of your life, you’d better be prepared for anything.
A Witch’s Kitchen
Millie’s a witch. So why can’t she do magic?
Young Adult Speculative Fiction by Dreaming Robot Press
Demon Girl’s Song
She wanted adventure. She got a demon and a dying world…
Mirror of Stone
On the frontier moon of Travbon, sixteen-year-old Eleanor Weber stumbles into a decades-old government conspiracy and is forced to run to survive.
First published in the United States by Dreaming Robot Press. 2016
Copyright © 2016 by Corie J. Weaver. All rights reserved
Publisher’s Cataloging-in- Publication data
Names: Weaver, Sean, 1968- , editor. | Weaver, Corie, 1970- , editor.
Title: 2017 Young explorer’s adventure guide / edited by Sean and Corie Weaver.
Description: Las Vegas, NM: Dreaming Robot Press, 2016.
Identifiers: ISBN 978-1-940924-23-6 | LCCN 2016952327
Subjects: LCSH Short stories. | Science Fiction. | Children's stories, American. | BISAC JUVENILE FICTION
/ Science Fiction | JUVENILE FICTION / Short Stories
Classification: LCC PZ7 .T9332 Tw 2016 | DCC [Fic]—dc236
ISBN: 978-1-940
924-23-6
* * *
Published by Dreaming Robot Press
1214 San Francisco Avenue
Las Vegas, NM 87701
www.dreamingrobotpress.com
* * *
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of these authors’ rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Permissions
The Robot Did It © 2016 Nancy Kress
In the Middle Gray © 2016 Valerie Hunter
Rela © 2016 Marilag Angway
Blaze-of-Glory Shoes © 2016 Brandon Crilly
Trench 42 © 2016 Sherry D. Ramsey
After the Fall © 2016 Michael Barretta
The Fantastic Tale of Miss Arney's Doubloon © 2016 Zach Shephard
Weeds © 2016 Dianna Sanchez
Builders for the Future © 2016 Salena Casha
Where Treasure Drifts in Space © 2016 Jeannie Warner
Man's Best Friends © 2016 Bruce Golden
Terror on Terra-5 © 2016 Maggie Allen
Crimson Sky © 2014 Eric Choi
The Recondite Riddle of the Rose Rogue © 2010 Dawn Vogel
Three Brother Cities © 2012 Deborah Walker
Cinnamon Chou: Space Station Detective © 2016 Deb Logan
Vasilisa and the Delivery © 2016 Joey DiZoglio
I.Will.Not. © 2016 R.W.W. Greene
