Newton's Cradle
The Fallen Star People
Chapter 3: Newton’s Cradle
Davids could feel his heart pounding behind his eyes as he ran in the narrow hallway. Long ago his lungs had lost any semblance of a steady cadence, but his legs made up for it by driving like pistons into his chest with every step and left him with rhythmic gasping if nothing else. The white walls on either side of him seemed to never move past him as he struggled to keep pace with those in front of him. Hips, calves and feet groaned and complained in perfect harmony to the tune of his foot falls. It felt like the floor was being pulled out from underneath him with every step, but he pressed on. He was so close.
This was it, he had to push now or never make it. The last of his energy was burned up as he made a final push, but he could feel himself slipping behind. Any moment now it would be too late or he might make it with the others. Time was running out but all he needed was a few more steps.
…4.91…
…4.92…
…4.93…
“ALL RIGHT BOYS AND GIRLS! THAT’S IT FOR THE DAY, SO STRAP-IN AND SHUT-UP, WERE’RE SPINNING DOWN!”
Damn. I really need to cut back on the sweets and take the calisthenics more seriously. I don’t think I’m gonna get a 5K in till then.
First Lieutenant Robert Davids stepped off the treadmill, looped his arms into the straps of a small seat bolted to the wall and sat down. Around him, heeding the marine sergeant’s call, men and women jumped off their own machines and made their way to similar minimalist chairs on the two walls of the gymnasium. After their allotted two daily hours the crew was ready to return to their duties around the ship while maintaining the tried and true mandatory naval fitness levels for their positions.
The gym itself was actually pretty nice. It was basically just a hallway, but considering where they where it was a nice hallway at least. It was a little too narrow to be comfortable and the way all the machines were lined up made walking around its own exercise. But despite all that it was rather nice for a space ship. Davids was pleasantly surprised when he first saw it, gyms of this quality where usually reserved for stations, but apparently the navy had a few perks. Although the quality of the gym only made its one issue more noticeable.
“I can’t believe they only give us two hours,” Davids said to the man next to him. “I here the marines get at least three a day, and I’m here just trying to get a 5K before the tedium that is space flight.”
“Yeah I feel yah.” A man named Pete on his other side chimed in. “Six months is way too long to be cooped up in this tin can. And we’re only allowed two hours to stretch our legs? Man, we get back The Security Council is going to get such a strongly worded letter.”
The crew around them laughed. Second Lieutenant Pete Gilmore was one of the constant sources of entertainment onboard the F.S.S. Monet with his lighthearted sense of humor and witty repartee. With a very uninteresting flight, crew members like Pete were essential in order to keep ‘sigh’ levels under control. But ever the pillar of discipline and functionality officer Kevin kill-joy¬ stepped in and silenced the group.
“Oi! Lock it up! Chat when I don’t have to listen. They pay me to watch you flyboys train, not babysit you lot.” Staff Sergeant Kevin Brunswick was the kind of man who demanded obedience, and looking up at the group as he stood holding a hatch on the ceiling he quickly regained order. The fact that he was only one of a few marines on the Monet meant he had an air of formality and discipline about him, though it was far more friendly than intimidating. Though, in Davids’ opinion, he would look really cool with some battle scars on his face.
Everyone remained silent after that and simply waited as the sergeant made sure everyone was strapped in and waited for the spin-down.
After a few moments the sound of machinery became more and more obvious and Davids began to feel the left strap push against his body a little bit harder. A minute later and everyone was leaning to one side, except the sergeant who preferred to stand grasping the lever on the ceiling. Soon Davids felt the bottom of his chair become less and less friendly with his butt. The sound of motors and gears began to shake the gym before a jolt and sudden stop sent everyone to the opposite side of their chairs. A tone sounded as the other noises stopped before the bottom of Davis’ chair fell away and he was suddenly falling.
Zero gravity was never something that bothered him much. It was the transition that was a little unnerving. The ‘chair’ was now simply a pair of straps to hold his body as it floated above small seat. Looking around drops of sweat could be seen hanging in midair before the ventilation system would gobble them up and recycle the water. It was rather surreal to have his world transformed from an endless hallway of gym equipment into a metal donut plummeting through space without any support.
No, not falling. I am floating, I am flying and I am in control. He repeated the small phrase as the sergeant opened up the hatch to the rest of the ship and jumped up and out. (Or down and out if you were on the other side of the gym.)
As the crew filled out Davids regained his bearings and by the time he was moving along the bright white hallway towards his cabin all thoughts of falling were gone. He was ready for space again.
***********
Davids slipped along the “East” wall towards the nose of the ship. After months in space handholds and designated traffic lanes became little more than part of the scenery. He would lazily stretch out a hand to the surface and pushed himself through the air. When the crew first arrived they clung to the walls like barnacles and would “climb” their way around. Now, however, Davids would not even slow down for the twin bulkheads that jutted over half a meter from the wall and marked the division between the modules. A simple push, bend and grab let him continue past on his easy float.
Past the second bulkhead and into an open doorway marked “4” Davids entered the room that served as the quarters of himself and eleven other pilots. For a space ship it was comfortable enough. Every man got his own section of wall and no one seemed too cramped. Its partial trapezoidal shape gave it more wall space on the far side and gave the whole space a functional (if odd looking) geometry. He never understood why they gave it such a strange shape until after an engineer tried to lecture him on the merits of radial geometry. The engineer actually didn’t answer his question, quite the opposite in fact, the confusing lecture actually drove him to find a cross section schematic of the blasted thing and only then did he figure it out. I mean, come on, how hard is it say, ‘Oh, the ship’s like a square with a tiny square hallway in the middle and if you make the rooms square also you waste the corners.’ That makes sense, but he doubted that any schematic would explain the color selection.
Like everything onboard the color scheme consisted of at least twenty shades of white. White lights in the walls shone on the white storage bags next to the white sleeping bags tethered to white walls lined with white cubbies. During the voyage the crew had collectively found an implausible number of permutations of white. The designers must have thought the clean look it gave everything would be comforting, but mostly it just showed where the stains were. Indecently the shade for the kitchen had been dubbed “Bleached Dalmatian” because of this.
Davids moved to his own stretch of wall and started opening up bags and cubbies, making sure he didn’t end up pushing himself into the middle of the room. Changing clothes was a little awkward in zero-g if only because your socks tended to fly away on their own adventures. It took some adjustment for the crew to adapt, but they eventually all learned to put everything in a container or just attach it to a wall. Of course even now some men still had bad habits.
Davids flinched when he felt something bump into his back. Turning around he found an odd sight, a paperback physical book. Probably Wen’s. He thought. Wen had one of the few collections of paperbacks on the ship and a nasty habit of letting them float around in the air currents when he wasn’t reading them. Davids couldn’t be too mad though. Wen let the others read from his little library, and Davids really liked paper books. The feel, the sight, the smell, it was just so more real than a tablet.
Davids finished putting on his shirt and took hold of the book wondering what the Mandarin was currently reading.
The Classic Age of Space Exploration: 2023-2095
A look into the lives and technology that gave us the Solar system
By Susana H. Elson and Daniel Goldberg
The cover had a picture of an astronaut in EVA around, what looked like Titan, as he “sat” next to a space station. Robert had to read the book in high school and it was pretty good, even if Dr. Elson was a little liberal in her use of flowery language. It was still a pretty popular book even if it was a few years old.
He slid open one Wen’s compartments and pushed the book in amongst the cluttered socks and underwear. Wen would find it eventually, unless it was true that he never changed his underwear.
The rumor was actually kind of mean when he thought about it. It was true that Wen was a little different, he ate different food in the galley, he listened to different music and worst of all would occasionally curse in Mandarin. Of course he wasn’t too weird, but the others still didn’t really like him. It was probably due to his nationality more than his personality and Davids couldn’t really blame them for their prejudice. It was fickle and stupid, but Wen was probably nearly as old the Mandarin Confederacy and they were still trying to deal with people’s reaction to the reformation of China back home.
Davids surveyed the room once more before exiting the open door and once again made his way towards the bridge. The rooms were boring anyway and he didn’t feel like watching a movie or playing games right now. The bridge was always fun, and next to the mess hall it was the best place for social interaction.
***********
“…So what are they going to do? They’re both stranded out in the middle of a dust storm, no communication no transport and no way out. So they guy with the busted led is like, go on without me, I’ll only slow you down, and his buddy is just having none of it. So they stay together and they’re limping on through the storm with basically no O2 and they think they’re gonna die. But then, what should they see sticking up out of the dirt but an antenna!”
Davids kept a hand on the doorway and chuckled as he listened in. He may have missed the first half of the story, but he had heard this particular tale over a dozen times and they always made the same mistake.
“So they start digging. And they’re digging away and start pulling up this really big piece of machinery, so they uncover most of it and you know what they find?” The crewman paused his story just long enough to add suspense to those unfamiliar but not long enough to allow anyone to spoil the reveal.
“The Mars Science Laboratory! They dug up Curiosity!” That got a few various reactions mostly in the form of chuckles and ‘no-way’s. “Well both these guys are technicians and as you all know Curiosity is nuclear powered. So they fix it up, throw the hurt guy on top and manage to just ride out of the storm back to their base.” The end of the story brought about a few more laughs and then some applause as the crewman attempted to take a bow which resulted in a summersault.
Davids clapped like the rest, but couldn’t just leave it there. “Oh is that it? The first time I heard that story they turned it into a hot-rod and jumped over a canyon and the second time they made it into a hydrolysis station and then waited for rescue. Put some flare into it, man, that story is best tall tale Mars has.” The others looked over at Davids as he pushed himself into the middle of the group.
“Hey, true story man. They really did ride Curiosity out of a storm.” The crewman (Jenkins?) insisted.
“Really? Cause as I understood it Gale Crater is one of the most populated places on Mars and almost never gets dust storms.” The crew looked between the two before giving a collective ‘ooooooo’ in Jenkins’s direction.
*In reality Curiosity was rediscovered by accident. A Martian prospecting expedition found its remains at the bottom of the slope it fell down years earlier. When they righted it they did in fact sit on top for a group photo, but the rover was completely inoperable.*
“Oh good.” Captain Blake said, as she flew over to the little gathering. “I was hoping someone would step in to shut him up. Practically everyone in the Empire will try and make you listen to that little folk story.”
Now here was where the bridge excelled as a gathering place for the crew. Captain Blake and her officers seemed to live in the bridge and always made the crew discussions more interesting. Throughout all the ship if you just wanted to gather with friends and hang out the bridge was the place for it. The only other room large enough to support a large crowd of people for hours was the mess and in the mess stories and debates always ran the risk of being interrupted by the wayward banana peel. (And of course the marines hung out in the mess, and let’s face it, they make terrible conversation.)
For over half a year the crew of The Monet had made their way through space without incident. At first they were the very definition of discipline, each man and woman eager and excited to finally be able to serve, but the ship literally flew itself. Their trajectory was laid in before launch and the bridge crew suddenly found itself with nothing to do in front of their terminals. It became a simple progression from there. The officers talked, they invited others in to talk, and soon everyone started coming into the bridge to just...talk.
They told stories, talked about home, the war, which games sucked and which didn’t, they had debates and discussions but mostly they tried to keep themselves occupied. Throughout it all the bridge crew seemed to offer the best conversation for the general population of pilots. The engineers’ section of the ship was far enough away that Davids would hardly ever see them and the marines seemed to think that if something wasn’t worth shouting it wasn’t worth saying at all. But the bridge crew was nice. Many of them had high degrees in fields Davids himself was studying before he signed up for the navy. Their expertise in physics and aerospace was astounding and he had had long conversations with every one of them.
Well, everyone except the captain. She only seemed interested in the discussions when she could butt in and say something witty. He always wondered why while everyone else seemed to be bursting with personal information she remained unnaturally stoic. He never even figured out why her parents named her Φ Blake. (Pronounced Phi or Fee)
“Oh, so you’ve heard the story too?” Davids asked trying to finally get some insight into the captain. “Where did you hear it? It had to be somewhere in the Empire. Everyone else has more important things to talk about.”
She looked back and forth between Davids and the rest of the crew, all of them looking back at their captain hoping to drag her into the friendly shackles of comradely. After a moment she realized that maybe being a fraternizing captain they warned her against in training wouldn’t be so bad, after all the crew seemed rather eager to get to know her as more than just a superior officer.
“Well the first time I ‘eard that particular tale would ‘ave ‘ad to ‘ave been when I was just a wee lit’l girl still living with me parents on Luna.” The others looked on a little surprised at the news.
“You were born on Luna?” She nodded. The crewman looked stunned.
“I thought for sure you’d have been in Ireland your whole life… I mean, with the accent and all.” A crewman finished lamely.
“Nope. Me parents were both Irish though. As for me, I’m a Luna girl born and raised. Stayed on the far side, Imperial Luna. Never saw the Earth personally till I was six when we moved.”
“Wow! That must have been a sight! It must have been amazing to see it for the first time.” The pilots all seemed to nod in agreement.
“Well aye, but I was a wee bit more interested in looking at where we were going.” This got the others interested. Most had assumed she would have actually gone to Earth at that point, but if not, then where?
“So where’d you go? To Mars and the rest of The Empire?” She shook her head. “The Common Wealth?” Another crewman asked. Again no.
“Oh come if not the Empire or Common Wealth then where? Those two are everywhere.” Jenkins asked getting slightly annoyed that people had forgotten about him.
“Well I never said I left The Empire, only that I didn’t go to Mars.” She smiled mischievously, she knew they were just dying to know now.
“Alright I’ll give you a hint. We left in about ’96 and everyone made a big fuss about the whole thing.” Most of the crew looked on blankly or wore a look of indignation, but after a second those with a good knowledge of recent history gasped.
“Alpha-Centauri!?” They said at once.
“Yep, parents got tickets for the first interstellar immigration in history. Spent the next 24 years around Alpha Centauri B on Kaiser the third planet around the second star. I remember back to when it was still called ACBC but that just doesn’t roll off the tongue quite as well.”
The crew gapped at her. Every man and woman on board had spent their entire life around Sol. For everyone else this was their first time on an interstellar voyage, but apparently the captain had beaten them to it while most of them were still in diapers.
Blake smiled again as her crew looked on in admiration and shock. “Yep, didn’t see Sol again till after they offered me a captaincy. Apparently they were short on people who had and experience out of the nest, and I was, at the time, on the Sicily, a trade ship that went back and forth in that stellar neighborhood. So when we suddenly had a need for captains with interstellar experience they picked me up in a heartbeat.”
“Wow.” Said Davids. “And here I thought I was special just because I’m a Martian native, but Alpha Centauri. That will put the guys from Europa in their place*.” Everyone laughed. The engineers from those moons were good at their jobs, but were always prideful to a fault.
*It should be noted that the colonists of the moons of Jupiter and Saturn like to rub everyone’s faces in the face that they never had to rely on anyone or anything to establish colonies in the hardest conditions imaginable. The crew members from Titan especially like to remind everyone that they had to walk to school by wading through liquid methane both ways.*
“Well I wouldn’t want to stoop to their level by making where I lived such a big deal. And I must say, Kaiser was a much nicer place to live than the outer moons. I mean it’s so warm there you don’t even need to be a bitch to everyone you meet.” The others bust out in laughter before she moved on. “My only complaint was that the days were so very short. I mean, it was distressing to a little girl to have the days suddenly stop being a month long. After two weeks I asked me mum where me presents were, I thought I was at least another year older by then.”
The laughter in the bridge continued as everyone retold the own stories but was suddenly cut off as alarm bells went off. The emergency sirens blared and the room turned an angry flashing red before the intercom roared to life.
“Engineering to Captain Blake! Emergency! Red Alert!”
“General Quarters all hands!” She said as she rushed to the intercom. People were flying to their positions before she even spoke. Davids rushed out the door before he could even hear her response and was strapped down in his room before she got the news.
*****************************************************************************
An hour later the words continued to illuminate his face from the tablet he cradled in his hands. They were words that he couldn’t quite understand. It seemed like some sick bastard had taken a standard work roster report and violated it for some cruel joke. He saw reports like this every day, each of them identical, standard and uniform. But this one was wrong, so wrong that he couldn’t stop reading it.
Rank; Ensign
Last; Montgomery
First; Vince
Section; Engineering
Duty; Direct inspection of Alcubierre main ring through Extra-Vehicular Activity.
That made sense. Every week the engineering team went out to double check every system around the ship and that meant a few had to go on EVA and fly around outside and check everything. The main ring kept them all moving at faster than the speed of light and needed to be checked just like any other system. It was routine, Ensign Montgomery probably did it a hundred times before. Which is why the next line was so confusing.
Status; KIA. Exited Trans-space bubble.
KIA. No one died on the Monet. No one. They had not even reached the enemy and someone had died? It seemed impossible. It couldn’t be right. So he read it again.
Status; KIA. Exited Trans-space bubble
It was wrong and he knew it. In his heart Davids didn't want to believe that the Ensign was gone, but that was true. The nature of warp travel meant it was entirely possible to simply fall out. The ring collapsed space in front of the ship while expanding space behind which propelled the ship forward while simultaneously maintaining a football shaped (American of course) area of stability in which the ship itself sat. As long as something remained in the ‘warp bubble’ they would move along with the ship and could travel between the stars. Montgomery had not. He was inspecting the ring, the very edge of the bubble. If he was careless or bounced off the structure it would be easy for the top of his helmet to just brush up against the inner edge of the bubble. And that would be all it would take.
Davids looked back towards the aft end of the ship. He tried to look back beyond metal and a million kilometers of dead space and tried to see Ensign Montgomery. Because while it was true that he had fallen off, fallen out of the bubble and into the universe, the line on Davids’ tablet was still wrong.
Status; KIA. Exited Trans-space bubble
Going through a warp horizon, the bubble’s edge, wasn’t fatal. You became just as stretched or contracted as the space around you, but it wasn’t fatal. If you blinked you would miss it, during the event your atoms’ proportional distance from one another wouldn’t change so you had no way of knowing it had happened until you looked around. One moment he would next to his ship, making his rounds, chatting through the intercom. Then, suddenly, his vision of a ship would be gone and in its place would be an endless expanse of stars.
Status; KIA. Exited Trans-space bubble
And that was why it was wrong. Exiting the bubble wasn’t fatal, but he would still die. He would die in the same way that sailors thrown overboard had died for centuries; lack of air. He had slipped out a little over an hour ago, but the suit maintained life support for ten.
Status; KIA. Exited Trans-space bubble.
So Davids looked back, looked back to where Montgomery floated alone. Lost in the space between stars with now less than nine hours to live. It would take years before any dying messages would reach human ears. In all likelihood no one would hear him again as the suit radios lacked the range for interstellar communication. No one would ever know if spent those nine hours screaming…or if he ever reached up to the neck of his helmet and ended it sooner.
And so that night for the first time in years Davids was sick in zero-G. It was strange to think that he was so upset by the passing a man he didn’t know and never met. Davids had never even heard of the man and still felt rage and grief over his loss. Maybe it was the fact that their first introduction was still in his arms staring him in the face.
Status; KIA. Exited Trans-space bubble. Davids put the tablet away and closed his eyes, trying to forget.
Nothing was known about Montgomery in the front half of the ship. No one knew about the man from Titan who left a wife and 12 year old daughter to join the war. None of his friends had any idea how the answer the 231 emails left for him by those back home. No one knew what to do the tiny bonsai tree he had smuggled on board and kept alive with a water bottle and small UV light. No one knew what to say about the first man of many who would die on the Monet.
So not much was said, and not much was done. His messages were deleted and his family answered with single message of condolences. The tiny tree was recycled into the hydroponics garden as mulch. And his bunk mates divided up his space and any issued supplies among themselves and boxed up anything personal to be brought home.
If it was any consolation, the shipboard funeral they had was at least held after they were sure he was dead.
***************************************************************************************
Today was the day they had been waiting for. The crew was excited and unruly and halls were filled with groups signing along to music blasted through the intercom. The officers allowed them their fun and had even became so caught up in it themselves that a fairly large party had been organized and thrown in the mess. Everywhere you looked people were smiling, singing and soaring around eagerly talking about what was to come.
After six and a half months in a Trans-space bubble The F.S.S Monet was ready to drop back into real space. They had arrived at their destination; Pegasi 51.
As the hours counted down everyone made ready to enter the system. Gear was stowed and final inspections made before every man and woman squeezed into their suits, strapped down into brace positions and the entire ship was purged of air. If anything went wrong the entire crew would be ready for maneuvers or hull breach.
Fastened into her command seat on the bridge Captain Φ Blake went over the system briefing with her crew once more. After swallowing her own nervousness she thumbed the intercom and addressed her entire crew. “Today we will dropping into the star system Pegasi 51. We will arrive close to the star itself to minimize ability to be detected by the enemy and from that point we will act accordingly. Intelligence predicts that the Draconis forces will still be en route, so we should encounter no resistance.” At that many of the crew gave a ‘whoop’ into their helmets.
“However, we will be prepared to engage the enemy if necessary.” The same crew members suddenly found themselves far more nervous than excited.
“Due to the nature of the movement of the First Fleet, it is entirely possible that we will may arrive before any other ship. If this is the case we will have to scout the system and prepare a strategy before the others arrive over the next four days.” Now the crew was more nervous. They had never thought they would be the first to arrive in the system. Never thought they would be the ones to test the waters for the other ships.
“The system has never been directly observed by probes, so the planetary configuration is mostly unknown. We do know from telescopes on Earth that the star wobbles significantly. This is due to a planet of similar mass causing a binary orbit. The planet was determined to be very massive and close to its star and it was dubbed Bellerophon in 1995. We do not know of any other planets in the system, so we will be conducting scientific research on the system if possible. I am also pleased to say that if we arrive before the others we will be the first humans to ever see Bellerophon directly.” That small fact helped many of the crew. To them it almost made the trip seem like a scientific rather that a military journey.
“When we enter the system we will need to match velocity with the star and then thrust ourselves into a stable orbit. Depending on where exactly we arrive this may happen immediately or take place at a later time and the duration of the burn could be anywhere from a few hours to a few days. We will inform you all and we will require all personnel to be braced at the time.” She paused for a moment to let the information sink in.
“All hands make ready we will be arriving in the next 15 minutes.” And with that the intercom went silent and the crew braced themselves for the ride of their lives.
Light cannot penetrate the edge of a warp bubble and so during the trip the screens around the bridge showing camera feed had been shut off to conserve power. Now they showed an inky blackness in all directions as the bridge officers stole glances to the beat of a timer marking off the minutes until ETA. Each and every one of the officers on the bridge seemed to hold their breath in anticipation. Figures were ready out and double checked, all systems were green and now it was only a matter of time before the screens would light up with stars.
Suddenly all the screens flashed and tones sounded throughout the bridge as everyone jumped into action.
“We’re out of warp, ma’am. All systems are looking good.”
“Prepare system observations. Keep me posted.” Blake turning to the next officer.
“Distance to star: .93 AU. Velocity within acceptable range. Thrust interval is nominal.”
“Excellent!” Captain Blake almost shouted. So far so good. With any luck the Draconis would still be months away and she could relax for a few days while the fleet caught up.
“Lieutenant, are we in a good position for orbital insertion?”
“Yes ma’am. It should be an easy burn, no more than 18 hours.”
“Good. What is the status of the Draconis, can we see any other ships?”
“Negative ma’am. All spectrums are clear at this time. We will need to probe the system further for confirmation, but at this time we seem to be alone.”
Captain Blake could have kissed him, but instead settled for wide grin underneath her helmet. No Draconis and a good entry, today seemed like it was going to be a good day. She breathed a sigh of relief as the realization hit her; they were going to OK.
“Jesus Christ…” A crewman muttered into his mic. Blake barely had time to register the outburst before every alarm in the bridge sounded off at once.
ALERT COLLISION DETECTED. EVASIVE ACTION REQUIRED. IMPACT IN SIXTEEN MINUTES TWELVE SECONDS.
The breath caught in the throats of the crew. Everyone gaped at the information before Blake took action.
“What is it?! What the fuck are we going to hit?!” The crewman who uttered the first curse remained in stunned silence while others around the bridge suddenly stopped and gasped as they found what she was looking for. With no one answering her Blake slapped at her arm rest until the image appeared on the main screen.
The screen flashed a bright silver color and Blake thought for a moment it was broken. When her eyes adjusted she made out details and was stunned like the others. It was the moon. Craters scattered across a silver grey surface of rock. A surface they were plummeting towards.
“PILOT! Aim above the horizon and PUNCH IT!” He didn’t even acknowledge her before grabbing the controls and jerking the ship into a new orientation. To the tune of rumbling reaction thrusters Captain Blake tried to rationalize what she was seeing. That looks just like Luna, that luminosity is unique among moons. It could be another body in Pegasi 51, but it could still be the moon. But how could we have gotten back here?
Her thoughts were interrupted as the main engines exploded to life and pushed the craft forward at 3G’s. An engine cluster at the back of the craft quickly magnetized as the fusion core heated and propelled Hydrogen, Deuterium, Helium 3 and Lithium into a collision chamber. The reaction materials, already hotter that the core of the sun, smashed together and breaking them down at the sub-atomic level, the resulting Quark-Gluon plasma was shot out the magnetized tail pipe at near the speed of light. The explosive force thrust the ship forward and gave many a crew member whip-lash.
If an observer were to sit on that hemisphere of the moon they would be able to look up and see a new star appear in the sky for a spit second. For that time it would be the brightest object in the sky. It would have been quite a thing for anyone to see, but unless viewed from behind three centimeters of treated glass any observer would have their retinas irradiate to blindness by Gamma radiation.
Within three minutes The F.S.S. Monet had propelled itself fast enough to fall over the far horizon and make a successful orbit. For a moment the crew breathed in regular tempo again. Blake looked around her bridge and then dived back into reports and update from each and every officer. They still had a job to do and they couldn’t put off their duty just because of a near miss with death. The relative peace they enjoyed was short lived as the universe seemed hell-bent on their destruction.
The moon seemed to grow brighter for a moment or two before every man and woman aboard the ship felt the contents of their lunch move on their own.
WARNING ORBIT DECAY. THIS VESSEL IS DECELERATING.
“What’s going on now? Why are we slowing down?”
ALTITUDE DECREASING. IMPACT IN NINE MINUTES FORTY THREE SECONDS.
“I don’t know ma’am! I’ll try and burn us out of here!” The pilot shouted over the sounds of alarms before realigning the ship.
“Keep us alive! I want status on our velocity now! What slowed us down peop-.“ She was cut off as the automated alarm blared again and made every heart in the ship sink.
IMPACT IN FOUR MINUTES FIFTEEN SECONDS
The engines fired again much higher above the horizon than before.
IMPACT IN FIVE MINUTES THRITY TWO SECONDS
The engines fired another burst.
IMPACT IN FIVE MUNITES TWELVE SECONDS
“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!?” Captain Blake screamed as everyone on board began to panic. The COM line became choked with every desperate officer shouting, cursing, praying, screaming and disbelieving the situation.
The engines gave the ship the thrust to launch from a planet three times the size of Earth if they wanted, and yet, this moon was pulling them down faster than anything the universe had any right to. The computer couldn’t handle the situation and read the time out until their death faster than what should be possible. As far as the system was concerned the Monet was now falling faster that gravity should allow while also thrusting away a multiple G’s.
Through all the confusion an officer frantically waved at her Captain while shouting into the cluttered intercom. It took a moment for Blake to notice and then mute everyone on the bridge. For a moment the line was silent and the only noises anyone heard came from their own breathing or screaming. After a second Blake found the right officer and unmuted her line.
“-MOVING AT US!” She squeaked when she found her line was reopened, but promptly continued. “Captain! It’s the planet that’s moving at us! I checked our position by the stars, the planet-er-the body is moving at us! It must be orbiting incredibly quickly and we must be on the leading face.”
Captain Blake stopped breathing for a full four seconds before something in her mind clicked and she turned and shouted to her pilot.
“Aim 90 degrees to the moon’s vector. Get us out of its way!” With his mike still muted he could not respond, but quickly aimed the ship and began firing again.
Below them the ground moved faster and faster as it approached at a dizzying speed. Still the computer read of numbers as they fought to overcome the speed of the moon. Coming within ten kilometers of impact the ship found itself rising once again. The ground fell away twice as fast as it had risen before Blake cut the engine.
Everyone on board was panting or trying to keep from flooding their helmets with vomit as the bridge crew slumped down in their seats finally free of the unknown body. Blake looked around, feeling exhausted, at least now she had a moment to collect herself.
OK, she’s not Luna. But that still doesn’t explain what happened to the moon’s velocity. She continued to call the body a moon as she pondered their situation in the silence of the bridge. It was just a gut feeling that it was moon and not a planet, it did look significantly like the moon back around Earth and bodies that small were usually much less smooth and often a darker color. She didn’t realize just how many similarities it had with Luna until her attention was called to the horizon.
“Боже мой!” An outstretched arm pointed to the main screen drew the attention of the bridge crew. There peaking over the horizon was the beginning of a blue oval. As they looked a brown smear across the surface became apparent. Before it had fully come away from behind the moon everyone looking knew what it was.
It’s a planet…No…It’s a terrestrial planet. That thing can support life…Shit.
***********************************************************************************
Lieutenant Davids rushed along the corridor along with 30 other pilots. The warp was a failure. They had dropped in too close to a moon and the past ten minutes they had been put through was the crew’s attempt to dodge a moon that apparently had moved at them. Davids had had no idea how to react when the captain had said that. The part that really concerned him was the fact the sudden course correction coupled with the moon’s gravitational sling shot was sending them straight into the nearby planet.
The part that had the crew on edge was the fact the planet was terrestrial and seemed to be life bearing. The unspoken question burned in everyone’s mind, Did the Draconis get here first? Is this their home world?
As the pilots entered the airlock elevator they went over their short briefing once again. The Monet was in danger of crashing into the planet and it was unknown if the ship could pull away in time. There was also the concern the body might move to intercept the ship, and so with this information all pilots were put on standby to be deployed if necessary. With the fighters gone the lower mass of the ship should be able to move out of the way while the extra vantage points provided by the fighters should give a more accurate measure of velocity.
Soon over 50 pilots were loaded in the elevator airlock and began to move. The Monet was part of the new carrier vessels assigned to the first fleet. As a carrier the major division of its 900 meter length was little more than a skeleton structure of beams on which the deployable craft rested. This massive section was open and exposed to the vacuum of space and divided the Bridge, Pilot’s Quarters and Forward Mess from the Engineering Section, Technician Quarters and Rear Mess. The only pressurized passage between the two was a moving airlock, called the elevator, which ferried crew between the two sections.
The doors at both ends were left open and pilots dashed out as their fighters came into view. Soon Davids found himself thrown out and grasping for one of the many support beam that would act as a ladder to his craft. Without any control of his flight he bounced into one of the beams before stabilizing himself and looking around for Magdalene.
Magdalene was name of his high school girlfriend and his ship. He decided to name it after her because he told everyone that Magdalene the girl was ‘big, mean and could breathe fire’. The breakup had not been a pleasant one.
As he approached the fighter he was able to take in its beauty for the first time in months. It had the general shape of the Americans’ first set of space shuttles complete with color scheme and lifting body characteristics, the two boosters sitting on top of the structure and the pointed nose defined it as its own ship however. The boosters were a powdered Aluminum and liquid Oxygen hybrid called ALLOX* Thrusters (*Pronounced like Alex) and along with the internal fuel could provide a large amount of thrust.
When Davids came up to craft he clung onto a nearby girder and started fiddling with controls on his left wrist. After a moment the cockpit dome broke in half and moved away to reveal the interior. He pushed himself slowly to the open seat and maneuvered himself into a seated position before strapping himself into the elaborate harness and powering up the craft.
In just a few moments the cockpit sealed around him and the interior lit up as data and power flowed into the fighter. Suddenly the inside of the protective dome shimmered and filled up with a dynamic image of the stars above. The simulated canopy and strategic technical screens worked in tandem to give a pilot all necessary information to control the craft. As Davids and the other pilots made their final equipment checks the voice of their commanding officer, Commander Bailey, came over the line.
“Attention all pilots, this is Commander Bailey. Captain Blake has informed me of some new developments in this situation of which you must be informed.” Davids stopped in his work to listen to his commander. The man had kept to himself during the trip but had now taken charge of his fighter squadrons and made ready to rely orders from the Captain.
“As far as we can tell at this time the planet is not inhabited by the enemy. All frequencies have shown no communication even those known to be used by the Draconis. We believe that the original project was correct in so much as we will not encounter enemy contacts at the current time.” Pilots everywhere sighed with relief as one of their many worries was dispelled.
“It has been decided to jettison a number of fighter type craft to reduce the overall mass of the vessel. These ships will utilize on board fuel to perform the maneuver and meet up with the Monet afterward.” Davids’ heart sank slightly at the thought of being separated from the ship, but took some comfort in at least knowing what he was expected to do.
“Furthermore, we require a number of these fighters to move to a significant interval away from the ship and provide data on velocity and on the planet itself. It is expected that they may need to perform aero braking in the planet’s upper atmosphere to gather data and decrease velocity to remain in the planetary system.” Davids sucked in his breath at the words. He was almost on the verge of begging when the words he dreaded came over the line.
“Squad leaders will decouple when able and take positions 1.5 kilometers from the ship and be prepared to enter the atmosphere if requested. Await assignment at designated positions. All other pilots of fighter craft, be ready to undock and move to a computer aided parking position.”
Shit. I knew this rank was more trouble than it’s worth. With that Davids quickly punched a code into the terminal on his right and became the first to start flying to his position.
The three other squad leaders waited with First Lieutenant Robert Davids spread out kilometers away from the Monet. Other fighters parked closer to the ship and prepared to make a group burn to follow the ship when ordered, but from his vantage point nearly 15 kilometers away Davids could barely make out the glint of the main craft. He sat as the farthest craft out and would act as a reference point for the ship and he rest of the fighters. He knew all too well what this would mean. I am going to be the last one to move. He looked out his digital canopy at the planet. At this time it seemed to be incredibly close to them now and growing all the time. Unless they decide to change my position in the next few minutes I am going to be the one who has to perform the aero braking.
He took what time he had to reflect on his position. Squad leader was a difficult rank to achieve and grandpa Bellon was ecstatic when he heard the news. He wondered what his grandfather would say if he could see him now, after all it was he who encouraged Davids to join in the first place. Actually, knowing grandpa Bellon he would probably say something about how this is just like Earthlings abusing and oppressing a Martians natural martial talents. He shook he head at that, grandpa was always pretty bitter at Earth.
Thinking more Davids began to wonder what the hell he did to get stuck in this position. It probably had to do with his other grandfather actually. If grandpa Bellon inspired Robert to join the navy, then grandpa Davids had inspired him to be a pilot. He had been in the Air Force back in the third world war and took Robert flying when he was attending high school in the U.S. It was probably the extra flight time and extra-terrestrial experience that put him ahead of his peers in training. Either way Davids couldn’t help but feel that this rank was going to be the death of him.
Well before he was comfortable the Monet and its group of orbiting remoras were ordered to fire and move into a new orbit that would hopefully bring them out of danger. As Davids sat there his fighter was used to measure the other’s velocity and ensure they were fast enough.
Davids almost felt useful as the main body and then others used him and Magdalene to make their escape. No not quite useful, more like used. As he sat there more and more ships were ordered to move until the Monet had determined itself to be able to miss the planet and his radio cracked to life with welcome news.
“OK Davids, thanks for being our marker. Now it’s time for you make your burn. Both you and Lieutenant Hagiwara will be entering the atmosphere at 50 kilometers above the surface. Vectoring will be laid in to your fighters shortly.” Davids was actually surprised when it was the Captain’s voice over the line but didn’t have much time to ponder it as he gave his confirmation and lined up his fighter with the computer guided vectoring.
By now the planet filled a good deal of his canopy with all of the other crafts well out of visual range. Davids moved in to take the position in front of Lieutenant Hagiwara and aimed his fighter with the belly to the planet as the altimeter read smaller and smaller numbers. However, he double checked his speed and orientation as a growing sense of unease filled him.
“Command, this is First Lieutenant Davids.”
“This is command, report.”
“Sir, I believe my orientation is incorrect for a maneuver of this speed. From what my instruments are showing I’ll most likely hit too fast and bounce off the atmosphere before reaching the intended altitude. If I skip out it is unlikely I will have the delta-V to return to the ship, Sir.”
The line was quiet for a few moments as no doubt everyone who heard the message was busy double checking the information. Relative velocities were recalculated as craft information was collected and shared. After a significant pause the Commander opened the line again.
“You may be right Lieutenant. But sensors are unable to get accurate readings on all craft at this time. Thus far the computer calculates an 88% chance of success in your current position, but I would like to get your opinion as well.”
“Sir, from what I can see I think the computer has underestimated my velocity and the atmosphere’s density. I would suggest an inverted entry.” The line remained quiet before he spoke again. “I mean, sir, I should enter the atmosphere with my belly up and my nose below the horizon, upside-down.”
For almost a full minute the line was quiet before the Commander began to speak.
“OK people. You heard the man. The engineers say it’ll work and the computer says no. I want pilot opinion. Hagiwara, you are in a similar position, what is your assessment.”
The next few minutes were filled with deliberation as everyone tried to figure out the correct course of action. A major problem they had was a lack of sensor agreement. Sensors on the ship read the atmosphere at wildly different densities and no one could determine speed in relation to the surface. In the end Davids was ordered to perform an inverted entry and Hagiwara was told to be ready to perform either orientation. The decision was reached only when Davids’ sensors began to pick up trace amounts of the atmosphere.
Soon Davids craft began to slow rapidly. The fighter shook violently as Davids was tossed around in his harness. Red flames streaked around the craft as he passed into the night side of the planet. He fought to maintain control but neither orbital nor atmospheric controls responded. In a panic he shouted into his mike.
“I’ve lost control. The atmosphere is way too thick! I’m reading hull temperature in excess of 700 degrees. Please advise I can’t see shit from here!”
Before he had a moment to worry anymore the line snapped to life with the voice of Captain Blake.
“Davids! Hagiwara! Get out of there! It is over twice as thick as we thought. I repeat, get out of there now!”
Davids gasped and tried desperately to regain control as Hagiwara passed overhead skipping out of the atmosphere in her standard entry position. Her new orbit left her with a dangerous amount of excess speed and a low chance of meeting back up with the ship. As she gave her own confirmations his heart seemed to leap into his throat with a new computer message.
WARNING: SUB-ORBITAL VELOCITY.
“Davids get out now! Use your boosters and get back into orbit.” As he tried to reply static began to fill the line. Atmospheric disturbances made his plea for help become muddied and unrecognizable.
“Bad co-…… Breaki-…Repeat that las-….Vids?...Hear me?”
Before he could worry about this newest problem another more pressing issue became apparent. His frantic attempts at control had managed to flip the fighter over and he begin a tumbling motion that threatened to bring up his lunch and burn up his craft.
Cursing furiously he fought with everything he had as warnings blared. The craft was out of control and overheating. Projected landing had the fighter crashing into the middle of an ocean if it even came down in one piece.
In the heat of the moment, with death a sure alternative, Davids did the only thing he could think of. When his nose next became level with the horizon he ignited his ALLOX thrusters and was forced back into his seat as the fighter went into rapid deceleration. If he couldn’t get his vessel under control as a glider he sure as hell could control it as a rocket-plane.
Once he had activated the thrusters control came back slowly. Soon the flames stopped burning up his craft and the temperature began to drop to safe levels. As he dropped below 10 kilometers he broke through the sound barrier and slowed to a speed at which landing became possible.
With a damaged craft and an unknown topography below him he flipped on sensors to find a suitable place to land and assess the situation. Soon a small clearing became visible.
Davids flipped on VTOL control and brought the fighter down on pillars of fire coming from the underbelly. At this point fatigue and G forces had worn away at the pilot and so he was struggling to control the craft and stay conscious. Once he had stopped most of his momentum he punched the Auto-Land feature and the ship began to descend on its own. Before he passed out he had just enough sense to turn on the automated laser turret on the bottom of the ship and take a look out the canopy one last time.
As the gear touched down Davids looked out to trees in every direction. Slumping in his seat he was able to think to himself, Stupid planet.
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First!
Oh wait, this is my own story.
Anyway this was a real bear to write. Half way done and I leave to go across the country for the holidays, had to fight tooth and nail to get a computer to type on. In the end I just put paragraphs in bottles and threw them in the ocean but I think it came out well. So ya, next chapters should be faster.
Don't change that channel,
MrPants1100
Love the story. You could use a bit more editing, tho. Also, during the point where Davids is reading the report on the dead Ensign, you might want to bolden or italicize or even put the parts that are the report in a quote box. It's cool that you're doubling between the report and Davids's thoughts, but you need a way to set the actual report apart from the rest of the text, because it's confusing as it is now. Also, what's with the weird paragraph spacing? Sometimes there's a space between paragraphs, sometimes there isn't. Just saying, just trying to help you with your story, just trying to help you along so we can find out what effing happened with Scootaloo and the spaceman already!?
3729061 Ah yes, editing, my one weakness! Thanks for the pointers by the way, going over this again a lot of the formatting is weird. As for the spacing, I tried to use extra spaces to show time had paced within the same scene, but if that doesn't work I can try something else.
And as for the Scoot-Meister and Davids-chan... Well if I had any control over what my fingers wrote the standard issue laser weapons would double as ice cream dispensers. Or maybe something else.
A big thank you to everyone for your support, it means a lot to me.
Don't forget to floss,
MrPants1100