by Candy Rae
Tension was running high when James Rybak, his supporting technicians grouped behind him, their faces alight with anticipation and relief, approached Commander MacIntosh with the news.
James spoke three words only.
“We’ve done it!”
Stuart MacIntosh looked at him, one elegant eyebrow raised in enquiry.
“Done what?”
“Found an oxygen based planet sir. Indications from the initial analyses are positive, indeed we are over ninety-eight per cent certain that it is suitable for human habitation. We must send the probe out. Find out for certain.”
“Waste of the probe if you have made a mistake,” said Robert Lutterell. “We won’t have another to send to the next planet you find if this one proves unsuitable.”
James turned towards him and blinked at him owlishly through his spectacles. “Chief, we’ve evaluated over nine hundred planets in this sector. Over eight hundred and ninety didn’t possess any measurable atmosphere at all, never mind anything else. The atmosphere of this one is, as far as we can judge, extremely similar to that of Earth. There are large land and water masses too.”
The young man turned to face his commanding officer.
“There won’t be another sir,” he said earnestly. Behind him, the technicians nodded in agreement. “This is it. We have to change course now. It’s the only chance of a future that we’re likely to get.”
Stuart MacIntosh nodded and looked at Robert Lutterell, who remained unconvinced.
“Change course at once and send the probe out,” Stuart ordered. “I have to agree with young Rybak here. Time is running out. Let’s find out if this planet is a goer.”
Turning to James, he added, “Transfer the co-ordinates to the helm.”
“Yes sir, right away sir,” James gasped with relief and moved back to the navigation console, the technicians trotting at his heels.
“And James,” said Stuart in a loud voice, “a big thank you from all of us.”
James grinned, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction at a job well done. With a great deal of aplomb, he executed a half-bow, reminiscent of a medieval courtier had he but known it, and totally out with regulations . He added ingenuously, “My pleasure sir.”
Stuart laughed. He couldn’t help himself. “What is the planet called?” he asked.
“Doesn’t have a name sir. Just a long string of letters and numbers.”
His captain grinned at him.
“Well, you found it. I think planet Rybak has a nice ring to it. We’ll call it after you.”
“Thank you sir,” said James, smiling with delight and bowing again.
The technicians laughed and began to slap James on his back in congratulation.
CPO Lutterell, in charge of ship’s discipline, spluttered with indignation. He said nothing but he was most definitely not amused. He resolved to speak to the cocky young devil later concerning the correct way to behave in front of an officer, especially one’s Captain.
* * * * *
The colonists in the undamaged sections had made room for the survivors of section six. There had been some injuries in the undamaged sections, broken bones and bumps and bruises but their inhabitants had had enough time to get to their emergency cabinets.
Tara’s section had been unlucky. A number of small projectiles had hit her section of the ship ahead of the others. She herself was fortunate her father had got her into the cabinet in time. Not that she felt herself all that lucky in the first days after the incident. The doctors kept her sedated most of the time so she was only half aware of what was happening, but she was aware of the fact that her family was dead and that she was now alone.
It was during one of her more lucid periods when the medicines were starting to wear off that she became aware of the person in the bed adjoining hers.
The old lady was lying staring at her. “I had a granddaughter just like you.”
Tara turned towards the voice. The lady was bandaged and it was difficult for Tara to make out her features. She screwed up her eyes to help her penetrate the gauzes covering the elderly face. She thought she recognised the voice.
“Mrs Mackie?” she asked hesitantly. “Is that you?”
Then sleep overcame her once more.
* * * * *
“I can hardly believe it,” Commander MacIntosh mused to PO Cranston over a cup of caffee some days later. “The probability of actually finding a viable planet was over a hundred to one.”
“I know that sir,” Jim Cranston replied. “Young James Rybak was kind enough to inform me often enough to make me extremely nervous. It wasn’t pleasant hearing!”
Stuart chuckled. He liked the dry humour of the mathematical young rating.
“Has the sleep mechanism been deactivated?”
The Petty Officer nodded as he replied, “Aye sir, we did it yesterday.” There would be no need to activate it now that the planet had been located and evaluated as suitable for colonisation.
“Good.”
They were a scant three days away from their destination and everyone was working hard to prepare the ship for landing. It had never been intended for the WCCS Argyll to enter the atmosphere of any planet. She was a deep-space vessel, designed to spend her life in that airless environment. It would be no easy task to land her on the surface intact. There were no landing buffers, nothing to protect the hull from the impact and a worried Stuart MacIntosh knew there was no way of knowing if the hull would stand up to the stresses. She might break up. Work was done to adapt the bridge programs for a planetary landing instead of space station dockings. The surviving engineers were working like fiends possessed, adapting the thruster mechanisms for landing under atmospheric and gravity conditions. Commander MacIntosh was optimistic. Having spent many hours studying the ship’s specifications, he was sure that the old girl would stay together long enough for him to get her to the surface.
The reports generated from the only probe they possessed were encouraging. The short visual report received had been broadcast throughout the ship and generated a great deal of excitement, an excitement tinged with sadness that some fellow colonists and crew who had set out from Earth would never see it.
On the planet, there were three main continents. The one in the southern hemisphere was the largest but, except for areas around its rivers, at its coasts and in the area well south of the equatorial belt, it appeared to be largely desert.
The two smaller continents in the northern hemisphere were similar to each other, having grasslands, plenty of rivers and lakes, forests and mountain ranges, some of which reached many metres above sea level. There were also hundreds of islands scattered throughout the oceans, some of which were almost small continents in themselves.
The sea was of a colour similar to Earth. To everyone’s amazement the grass-like vegetation and other foliage on all three continents wasn’t primarily green but a mixture of mauve and yellow ochre with tinges of blue and green only.
The biologists discussed endlessly how their limited amount of stored grains and beans would grow in this alien environment, if at all. Personally, Petty Officer Cranston was of the opinion that they should eat them and learn to develop the native edibles. The probe reports had indicated that many were suitable for human consumption. Some biologists and farmers disagreed and plans were being made to begin cultivation as soon as everyone had adequate shelter.
Commander MacIntosh often wondered what his future would be on their new world. The colonists were mostly from farming stock, carefully selected. Some were not farmers, there were scientists and teachers, doctors and musicians and other specialists, but over six thousand of those who would land on the new-named Planet Rybak were perfectly suited to carve out the land, supported by the rest. What on earth would the spacers do? He had been looking forward to a long and rewarding career in the space service and knew how to run a spaceship, not how to till a field.
What nobody mentioned was the worry that the planet would prove untenable for human life. The sin
gle probe might well have missed something vital. They clung on to the hope they would have a future there.
Another major problem facing the colonists was that the WCCS Argyll had not been carrying all that was needed to form a new colony. Theirs was the third convoy sent out to Riga. On that world, the earlier arrivals would have erected shelter for the people arriving on the Argyll. Cultivation was already well established. Because of this, the main sphere had carried only people and their personal possessions, together with any small mammals kept as pets. There were dogs, cats, rabbits and guinea pigs on board but not much else.
Nothing larger than the dogs had been held in the main passenger sections. The attached livestock pod, which carried some horses, cows, pigs and sheep had disappeared during the storm. The deck below the livestock holding plantings, food and the vast water reserves had also gone. They had no heavy machinery with which to till the soil. It would have to be done the good old-fashioned way.
That was the down side. On the up side, herds of various large animals had been spotted by the probe before it ceased transmitting. They looked to be ruminants, and it was hoped, a source of edible protein for the colonists. The probe had not found anything that had indicated that there were any hunters of these herds, but that was not to say that they did not exist. The vast forests would provide plenty of cover for any predators who wished to remain unseen. There were signs of colourful large bird-like creatures nesting in some trees. Some were of the opinion that these were of a raptor type and were the land’s main predator, but opinion was divided. They would find out when they got there.
Frequent meetings were held between the heads of departments. These nine department heads and five of the crew made up what was being called ‘the Council’. From these fourteen would come the governance for the set up of the colony during the first half year of occupation. The colonists were ready to go.
It was now up to Commander MacIntosh to get them there alive. Even if he did not have the farming skills needed on their new planet, he and his crew did have the skills to get them there. Once they landed they would learn and adapt.
He continued to muse over his caffee. The Petty Officer looked at him, considering whether to interrupt or not. He shook his head and stood up. He would find out the answers to his own problems himself, it looked as if the CO had enough on his plate without him adding to his workload. So he picked up his half empty mug and left his senior to it. It was doubtful if Stuart MacIntosh even saw him go.
* * * * *
Tara’s dreams were haunted, the picture of the scared face of her mother picking up the terrified Mark, the picture of her father’s determined face as he shoved her into the cabinet and the sound of her father hitting the activation button, calling her mother to get a move on, Mark screaming.
She would never see them again.
She was an orphan.
The medics kept her sedated much of the time and she welcomed the spray-shots that brought blessed oblivion but as the days passed, she began to come to terms with her loss and as she did so, the medication was reduced.
The Counsellor came, a gentle old lady with hair like snow and a soothing voice.
She talked. Tara listened and began to understand what had happened to her and what would happen to her in the future.
When she was released from sickbay she was sent to the brightly decorated children’s section of the ship which was filled with all manner of amusements designed to keep youngsters happy and occupied.
Animals were known to provide comfort for people, not only children, suffering from trauma. Handling the pets that inhabited the area, she realised she had a way with animals, dogs especially.
She became the only one amongst the newly orphaned that the vet in charge would allow amongst the nursing bitches. The mother dogs did not mind her presence in the slightest, their tails wagged as she talked to them, as she helped clean out their cages.
Tara began to take an interest in life again.
* * * * *
The WCCS Argyll drew inexorably closer and closer to planet Rybak. The bridge crew watched as the image began to fill the entire bridge screen; there was a burst of activity as the helmsman performed the intricate manoeuvres to set the ship on the required course to position her for orbital status. Commander MacIntosh’s eyes flickered between helmsman, screen and his own console.
“Attained planetary orbit sir.” Petty Officer Jim Cranston uttered the traditional words with a great deal of relief. He was working hard to ensure that the ship’s velocity matched that of the planet, a primary pre-requisite for a successful landing.
“Is visual recording?” Stuart asked the young engineering sub-lieutenant.
“Yes it is sir.”
“Pipe it around the ship. It will be their only chance to view the planet from above. Once we’re there, we’re there.”
The man’s keypad started to click in response to his instructions. Commander MacIntosh glanced at his small secondary screen in the corner of his command chair and was delighted with the vista that opened up.
In the passenger section, the last minute tasks before landing the ship were being completed. Tara, strapped in with the other youngsters from her section, gasped as the monitor in front of her came alive with only a few power flickers. She stared at the scene that was revealed. I can see land and water, why, there are clouds in the sky! Is this really where we are going?
For the first time since the storm Tara became interested in something other than the animals. She wriggled. She couldn’t wait. How long would it take? Looking around at the other strapped in figures, her own age or a little older, she saw rapt attention on all their faces as they watched the screen.
On the bridge, the consoles began to flicker with scrolling data.
“Time to start the entry manoeuvre,” Jim Cranston declared dispassionately, as if he performed this task every day of the week. In fact, he had not performed helmsman duties since he was a young man, but Commander MacIntosh had decreed that he was the person for the job, being the unflappable type of non commissioned officer so beloved of the commissioned.
The computer in front of Commander MacIntosh was mirroring the information showing on his helmsman’s. He took a deep breath. The window of opportunity for atmospheric entry was very small. The calculations had been checked again and again. Now was the time.
His communications earplug beeped.
“Engine room here Commander. You can take her down now.”
He swallowed and licked his dry lips; strange how one always felt thirsty when under strain.
“Warn the ship,” he ordered.
There were four bursts of the klaxon. Passengers and crew braced themselves. It felt as if every person on the ship was holding his or her breath.
Stuart MacIntosh caught Jim Cranston’s eye as he began to punch in the commands. The petty officer entered his.
They sensed the ship responding. The WCCS Argyll tipped her nose forward and began her long graceful curve towards the planet’s surface.
It was as if time was suspended. Nobody said a thing. The duty bridge crew’s eyes flickered from visuals to consoles and then back again, torn between watching the planetary surface getting nearer and nearer and keeping an eye on their readings. The integrity of the hull had been checked and found to be sound enough to allow a landing, but the engineering officers emphasised the fact that there were no guarantees. Many things could still go wrong.
Problem was that there was no other option; they had to land on the planet and make a go of it or die. It was as simple as that. If all went well they should land right at the coast of the more eastern (as they viewed them at this precise moment) of the northern continents.
Robert Lutterell had the job of keeping an eye on the integrity of the hull during entry. He knew if the heat rose above a designated limit they would burn up. He therefore kept a very close eye on the display, wanting at least a few seconds warning if death was inevitable.
The se
conds ticked by. His display numerals edged up towards the danger-point. He bit his lower lip, then seeing Kath Andrew’s strained face looking at him, winked and forced his face into a smile. He saw her relax.
Stuart MacIntosh and Jim Cranston’s fingers moved on the keypads, making infinitesimal changes to the ship’s speed and course.
The display monitor began to flash and CPO Lutterell took a deep breath in and held it. I’ll have to tell them, he thought in desperation, we’re not going to make it. Then the display stopped flashing and the numerals began to decrease. He breathed a sigh of relief.
The WCSS Argyll continued on her final journey. She exited the stratosphere and entered the atmosphere, heading towards the soft flat area designated as the landing site. There were no problems.
“Prepare for landing.”
The klaxon gave two sharp toots.
Stuart flicked the toggle on his console that turned the thrusters over to manual control. His fingers moved over his keypad. The ship descended, moving inexorably toward the soft marshy ground. It was not far away.
The thrusters fired. The manoeuvre was not as effective as it would have been in deep space, the thruster units were not after all designed to operate in above zero atmospheres but they did slow the Argyll down. Before the engines had a chance to stall, Stuart pressed the yellow button warning the engine room that he needed that bit of extra power for the landing manoeuvre itself. Jim Cranston reacted at once.
Both men’s index fingers were hovering over the improvised dual landing buttons. The Commander nodded. Their fingers pressed down. They could hear the engines responding, labouring mightily to keep the ship in the air long enough for the bridge crew to achieve the landing trajectory.
The land appeared to be approaching so very fast, the ground rushing up to meet them.
At a nod from Stuart the young engineering lieutenant cut off the engines. The WCCS Argyll plunged the remaining few metres to the ground, still maintaining some forward momentum, her hull protesting. Metal screeched and anything not securely bolted down bounced around as she landed on their new world, ploughing through anything that got in her way. Bushes and trees were swept aside and she left a swathe of destruction behind her. She began to slow down as the bottom of the sphere met the resistance that was the boggy marshland before swaying to a stop.
