Chapter 10 - Waiting in the Sky
Dr. Weiss was on the bridge when she saw a shadow flicker out of the corner of her eye – turning her head, she saw a dark figure in the airlock on her left. The figure entered the lights, but she still couldn’t see through the gold-plated helmet. “Commander?” she asked. “There is someone entering the airlock.”
“That’s Anton.” Commander Darcy didn’t even look up from his terminal. “He went out a while back to fetch a spare part from one of the dead probes. He says he plans to send it to Rhysling’s surface, but hasn’t told me how. Not yet, anyway. Glad he’s safe.”
“That I’d like to see.” She turned back to the terminal, as a gentle hiss entered the airlock. “Did he say what it was?”
“Ah. . . .” Darcy paused to remember. “Spectroscope. The one on the surface is shot, Somerset reported. Saw the picture myself, and I’m inclined to believe him.”
She sighed. “’Türlich.” She stepped away from her terminal, pushed herself off the wall, and went out the bridge.
And then Anton finally entered the bridge, with his suit already off, and smelling strongly of sweat, despite his cooling garment having worked as intended. Commander Darcy turned around in time to see him enter. “Mon dieu, docteur!” he let out. “Rode hard and put away wet, were you?”
“Yes, Commander, I know.” Anton sighed. “Where is Weiss? I thought I saw her here.” He set the delicate instrument on the table, next to Dr. Weiss’s terminal – the magnetized surface ensured that it would not float away and become damaged.
“She left the bridge just now,” the commander replied. “I guess she sensed the coming odor.” He snapped his finger to the bridge’s exit. “You. Pisces. Wash. Dress. Now, please.”
“Da, da, ja znaju. . . .” Dr. Konstantinov grabbed his jumpsuit and other normal clothing, shoved off the wall, and headed down the exit, hoping that he wouldn’t run into Dr. Weiss so soon after disembarking.
The Pisces module was connected to the Aquarius, which itself was connected to Zodiac’s central hub. Anton took a moment to find it – since the whole thing was rotating, after all – and once he did, dove down that hallway, feet first, and connected his feet with the rungs of the ladder. He simply let his jumpsuit drop down to the floor – an actual floor, backed by centrifugal gravity – and followed them down. After floating free in Altair’s bridge and outside the ship wholesale, feeling the centrifugal pull was starting to strain him. Perhaps he should have spent more time in Virgo’s gym.
Even with the gravity, no water was allowed to flow here – in case Zodiac suddenly stopped spinning. But the rinse-free soaps were still slotted in their places – so once he was sure that nobody could disturb him in his sanctum sanctorum, Anton started stripping off his sweat-drenched suit garments to bathe.
··–··
Every so often, though she never bothered to time it, Elena watched Rhysling swing past the window’s view. Each time was different, unique in its appearance, despite the colony ship being on a regular orbit around the planet. She noted the vast seas, the lush green lands, the white clouds whipping up into storms, and the aurorae as the ship swung past the poles. She noted the dry desert bands, tan and broad, and wondered if anything lived there – and wondered if the colony could survive there. She noted the tall snowy mountains – and missed her home.
She sighed – if only she could see the Swiss Alps one last time. She had the photographs, meant to keep up crew morale, but they didn’t hold a candle to actually being there. Every summer, when the countryside wasn’t completely frozen over, her family would spend a fortnight camping out near Chäserrugg, mostly to get away from the usual hustle and bustle of the Zürich metropolis. She remembered waking up every morning to the cool, crisp, fresh air – moreso since she wasn’t in the same tent as her brother anymore. But now, having to share the same space, the same air, with two unrelated men – one of whom was her superior – it made her yearn for those simple moments in her youth, with her parents, with Hans, and with noöne else around.
She smiled in her nostalgic reverie – before her thoughts were interrupted with feet landing on the ground. She turned around to see Dr. Konstantinov, freshly clean and jumpsuit decently laundered, and heading to the pantry to get something. But before he slipped inside, he turned to ask her “Did you want something as well?”
Elena was about to refuse – but then her stomach answered that question for her. “. . . yes,” she admitted reluctantly.
Dr. Konstantinov smiled slightly, and grabbed some packets – boršč for himself, and some French onion soup for her. Both of these needed rehydration, and the French onion soup was very limited in quantity and only packed per French insistence – but he could recognize homesickness, and knew how it would impact crew performance. He read somewhere that it was also commonly served in Switzerland – so it all worked out nicely.
The rack of hydration guns were on the wall opposite. He grabbed the hot one and injected 150 milliliters of water in the boršč, and 130 in the French onion – both of these would take five to ten minutes to rehydrate fully. In the meantime, he replaced the hoses and took them over to the table, sitting down across from Elena. “Are you well?” he asked, offering the French onion packet.
“It could be better.” She sighed, but accepted his offer anyway. “Besides the lack of results from the probe. . . .” She left the other clause unspoken.
“I have the spectroscope,” he said. “Somerset will install it on Rhysling. Did the atmospheric results come in?”
She nodded. “They did – virtually identical to Earth’s, but with a lower atmospheric pressure and a slightly higher xenon content.” She cleared her throat. “Which is why I wish to see readings on background radiation. I wonder if the Indigenous have access to nuclear power.”
“If that is so, then what would their method be?” Dr. Konstantinov shifted uncomfortably. “It is something to consider, yes – but I am certain that they have simpler methods.” He put his chin into his palm. “Perhaps something that does not require a circuit?”
“And yet, Dr. Somerset tells me that the Indigenous were able to reättach the battery to the probe. Even with some help from the Indigenous – so theirs must work the same way.” She sighed. “I know what you might be thinking about. But we all understood the dangers of this mission when we applied. Even Somerset, lucky enough to first set foot on Rhysling – ”
“I did not.”
She paused. “Come again?”
“I did not sign up for Zodiac-Altair.” This time Dr. Konstantinov sighed. “All I did, all that I will say I did willingly, was to develop the cryonic storage for colonists – the same that you slept in while traveling the system. But the Kremlin insisted that I come along with them. At first I resisted – for I did not wish to leave the Motherland – I wanted a wife, a family – but they said that nobody else can maintain them, that nobody else can know fully how one technology central to the ship works. I offered to instruct them on every detail of its workings, ensuring that anyone can carry out this work without me, but they refused – and so here I am.”
He chuckled. “We are both homesick in a way, it would seem. I dream even now of living in the Soviet Union – or the Federation. Whichever. And you must want to see the mountains again, to. . . ski from the top, to talk with family. Am I not correct?”
“Mostly you are right. Though we never did go skiing – those places are full of tourists, and we never did like them.” She turned to face the window again. “We did leave Züri every summer, but only to get away from the chaos of the city. A ski resort would mean we end up in the same sort of situation.”
“It must be nice to leave the city.” Dr. Konstantinov turned to face the window as well. “Me, I have not known a day outside the streets of Leningrad before Zodiac-Altair.” A pause. “In a way, I should be grateful for the assignment – maybe some new sights would do me good.”
“Such as outside the ship, perhaps?” Elena turned back to him, with a smirk on her face.
He rolled his eyes. “That was only necessary to get the spectroscope. It should still be by your terminal – to remind me for later.” He put his face into his hands. “I can only wonder even now how I can get it to him – safe and sound, and perfectly clean.”
“I face a similar dilemma myself, to confess.” Her stomach growled again. “But perhaps that can wait until we’ve had something to eat?”
He looked up. “Č – ?” And then – “Right, yes, the ration packets.” He grabbed his, squeezing just so, to check its consistency. As it turned out, these were ready to eat by now.
Almost at once, Elena latched her mouth on the blown-in straw and started drinking it – and in that same instant, she recoiled at both the heat and the fond memory of home. “I do not know how they managed to do this,” she said, “but it actually tastes freshly-made. But how?”
“Ask France.” Dr. Konstantinov was more content in calmly drinking his boršč. It was hot as well, but he was too used to the familiar sour taste to comment on it – not to mention that it was made in bulk originally for the cosmonauts. “They did the cooking and processing themselves.”
“Ach, of course.” She returned to her meal for a moment, returning her attention to the view outside the ship. “What else did they bring? I have to wonder.”
“Several dozen recipes,” he replied, “optimized for various gravitational pulls. They thought of everything.”
“Unlike you, it seems.” She giggled. “Still need you a solution for the spectroscope?”
“Yes.” He paused for a moment. “But you said you have a problem yourself, yes?”
She swallowed her bite, and cleared her throat. “Put simply, I would also like a live sample in my hands – and so would Earth itself, even if the journey takes another five years.” She set the packet on the table and thought for a moment. “The probes should have a return apparatus for samples, ja?”
“They do,” Dr. Konstantinov recalled. “But I do not see how they – ” He stopped suddenly, staring blankly ahead – then started wolfing down the remaining boršč as fast as he could, paying no attention to the burning in his mouth and throat. He leapt to his feet and disposed of the empty packet. “I have to go, now.”
“Is something wrong?” Elena had to ask.
This caught him just in time to stop him at the ladder to Zodiac’s core. He strained his mind for what he wanted to use to reply, and it came to him after a moment:
“Eureka.”
––––
Louis was staying by the radio.
Somerset had gone to bed by now – he had decided to start living by the sixteen-hour day that Rhysling offered. But before he did, he reported what he had been doing that day – he managed to record a few phrases, plus he had just acquired a local job.
At first Louis wanted to laugh, but then realized the logic – if Somerset really wanted to stay on Rhysling, he had to make himself useful in their civilization. For that matter, that same standard clearly would apply to the rest of the colony. Thankfully, Somerset landed a job as a laborer – and was now, hopefully, earning gainful income and proving his worth as a member of their society. If he played his cards right, Louis hoped, Dr. Somerset could end up setting a positive example of what mankind could do, and help secure a colony site.
But that remained to be seen.
Speaking of fingers – he found himself tapping his on the terminal keyboard – not typing per se. In fact, all of this tapping was involuntary twitching. In his mind, it had been three and a half years since he left Earth, but to his body, it had been only about two weeks. Either way, withdrawal was setting in, and right now he would kill to have a good smoke. Having Anton waltz in smelling of the usual sweat from spacewalking didn’t help matters much either.
But alas, tobacco was contraband on Zodiac-Altair – and they needed to monitor oxygen usage as much as possible. Their carbon scrubbers, as long-lived and replaceable as they were, were still finite in their supply, and he knew just as well as NASA that he shouldn’t exacerbate them any further than he already was.
And still, that old craving still haunted him from Maritime Command. He wanted his release – so badly. His lungs were being filled with the same sort of air – two parts oxygen, three nitrogen, and no parts burnt tobacco. As part of the mission, he had to quit smoking entirely, and now he was starting to regret it. Of course, now was too late – while it was still possible to return to Earth, he thought it cowardly to turn around this international multi-billion-dollar ten-years-in-the-making state-of-the-art one-of-a-kind interstellar colony ship and fly back with their tails between their legs. Especially when one of them was still walking around on the surface – he’d have to gamble a chance at launching from Rhysling to return to Zodiac-Altair, to slip back into cryo, along with Weiss, himself, and Konstantinov. . . .
Thankfully, the last of these interrupted his thoughts with some frantic clamoring. “Did something come up, Konstantinov?” he asked.
He was barely able to stop himself and turn to face the commander. “I have a solution at last!” he told Louis. “I know how to get the spectroscope down to Dr. Somserset!”
Louis crossed his arms. “Alright Doctor, I’m listening. What’s your plot?”
“Dr. Weiss told me that she wanted a sample returned from Rhysling. She said that Earth would like such a sample as well. So I thought, maybe we can use a sample-return rocket to deliver the part to him.”
“Interesting idea, Doctor, let me check if it’s actually feasible first.” Finding the manual, Louis flipped to the table of contents. . . . “page 203, ‘sample return mechanism. . . Huh. You might be onto something here.” That section of the manual showed how it had just enough fuel to return a twenty-five-kilogram sample from the surface of a body with Terrestrial-strength gravity. Most of it was dedicated to the working of the sample-return capsule itself. It was a cylindrical pill-shaped object, measuring one meter long and another fifty centimeters in diameter. It was split roughly in half – the bottom contained a rocket and fuel, and the top held the sample itself, along with a parachute for atmospheric entry, and a beacon for recovery. The interior could be sterilized from the probe itself, or even from Zodiac-Altair, for whichever purpose. And to relay samples from Rhysling to Earth, the ship was supposed to have its own supply.
“I’ll go yank one from the cargo, excuse me just a moment. . . .” Louis set the book down – but really set it adrift in the bridge – and dipped down to where the other probes were docked. He turned himself towards the large cargo hold to the rear of Altair’s main body, and quickly, yet thoroughly, scanned its contents. “Voilà!” He spotted a group of cylindrical containers in the back, all meant precisely for sample return – and now for parts delivery, for one of them at least. He started unstrapping some other cargo to get to one.
Meanwhile, Anton was looking around the bridge, waiting for the commander to return. There wasn’t anything interesting for him to look at – terminal on the ceiling, in front of their cryo tanks, and right by his side was Dr. Weiss’s terminal, with the spectroscope still magnetized next to it. Curiosity seized him by his jumpsuit’s collar, and he couldn’t stop himself from looking at the probe’s results thus far with his own eyes. What treasures had RPMR-1 recovered so far?
Most of what he saw on her terminal was as she had described – atmospheric composition, basic elements of local life, and the like. And then there was a folder full of photographs taken from the probe. He opened it, and opened the first one. It was simply a view of the Rhyslinger ground – high up but still within the atmosphere, and it looked like it was descending into a forest. Good for studying local flora and fauna, but if what Dr. Somerset said was correct, it proved bad for first contact – as that area was considered dangerous even for the Indigenous. But then, why not just tame the area, to make it safe?
These and other mysteries from just one image. Anton proceeded to the next one – this was clearly after the probe landed – and before it apparently lost power. Remarkably, the plant life viewed from this angle was much like what one would expect from dear old Earth – lush and green in appearance, and varied in shapes and sizes, colors and textures – he thought he saw mushrooms, too. One could spend potentially centuries studying Rhyslinger life, cataloging the entire biosphere and seeing what few similarities exist with Terrestrial life – or take the easy way out and simply translate what the Indigenous had already named for themselves. But that would be Somerset’s department, not Weiss’s.
The very last photograph transmitted from the probe astounded him – yes, there was Somerset himself, waving at the probe’s camera – rather cheeky – and next to him sat a little pony. But never mind why Rhysling had such beings here – why would Somerset have one of these by his side? There seemed to be no indication that it was a recently-tamed pet, nor would he have knowledge of dying its hair and fur in such bizarre colors and patterns. . . therefore. . . .
“Lošadi?” he had to ask aloud, yet to himself. “Čto za bred?” Even less believably, this one had a horn. A horn! On top of its head! It was a unicorn, not just a horse! But was it capable of performing magic, like the legends of yore? “What sort of magic makes this real?”
“Konstantinov, did you say something?” Commander Darcy asked him, when he reëntered the bridge.
Anton closed out from the terminal. “No, Commander.”
Darcy just shrugged. “Eh. Anyway, it seems we’re in luck after all.” He held up one of the spare sample-return capsules, one the size of his torso. “While they’re supposed to relay samples back to Earth, there’s really no reason why we can’t repurpose them to send something down to Rhysling instead.” A pause. “We’ll need to sterilize the instrument, however. You’ve gotten our germs all over it, after all.”
Anton nodded. “Yes, it would seem so.”
With a snap of his fingers, he indicated ‘below’ the bridge. “Launching tube’s right in front of the RPMRs, built-in autoclave, you know how this works.”
Anton nodded.
The commander continued, “Biological contamination would be unavoidable in a years-long voyage like this one, so as you might recall, we sterilize the capsules a second time on-site before loading up the sample. Of course, there is the warning, ‘Do not insert sample before sterilization,’ blah blah blah, we don’t need to listen to it for this one.” He started unscrewing the top. “Where’s the instrument, by the by?”
“It is here.” Anton tapped the spectroscope.
With a firm grip and a strong pull, the commander yanked it free from the magnetized table. The commander then finished unscrewing the top of the rocket, revealing the hollowed cavity, perfectly sized for the spare part. “Right, in you go.” The instrument weighed nothing in microgravity, but both men well understood the gravity of the situation. The commander carefully inserted the instrument within, taking care not to dent or scratch anything important. Once it was in, he, with a bit less elegance, screwed the nose cone back on. “Time to clean.”
He grabbed the floor and guided himself out of the bridge and into Altair’s central cavity – right in front of the launching tube. Next he slotted the capsule inside the tube, closed it behind him, and when he did the automated processes started sterilizing both the outside and the inside of the capsule – ensuring that biosegregation would be maintained on Rhysling.
But while the launching tube could automate a launch, it would launch a sample-return mission into the Flandro Object, and only the Object, considering any other target a ‘miss.’ But he had a trick up his sleeve – and it involved Dr. Somerset. He overrode the automated targeting to aim for TPRU-1 instead, using its signal as a guide, albeit not an absolute one – essentially tricking the program into thinking the Object was on the surface of Rhysling. Once that was done, he would pray it would survive the trip. Though prayer was easy enough, it did nothing to change fate.
“How long until we swing into view of the landing site?” Louis asked. “For Somerset, I mean.”
“I think seven minutes.” Konstantinov kept his eyes glued on the window – with all the time he had spent awake so far, he had used some of it to memorize the larger features on Rhysling. “From here I can see general area, including forest – aim just north of them.”
“Roger that, way ahead of you.” Louis kept his eyes glued on the terminal’s monitor, waiting for the right moment to launch the rocket safely down, do not pass go, do not collect $200. All he had to do was hit the return key for the actual launch – and he waited for Anton’s word to make it happen correctly.
And then, an afterthought – and a way to kill a bit of time. Hoping that Dr. Somerset was awake by now, Louis grabbed the radio. “Tango-1, this is Zulu-Alfa,” he said. “Are you awake, Somerset? Over.”
It took a moment for a reply to come, but come it did. “This is Tango-1,” Adam replied. “I’ve been awake for a few minutes, the sun is about to come up. Is something happening? Over.” Indeed, in Anton’s view, the intended site was just on the cusp of daylight, but was still on the dark side of the planet.
“In T-minus five minutes,” Commander Darcy explained, “we will be launching a capsule, aiming for your landing site. Inside the capsule is a spare spectroscope. It has been sterilized, so you can open the capsule in the field, but it is also delicate, so handle it gingerly and install it carefully. Let us know when you do this – Dr. Weiss has unanswered questions about background radiation, and I have a feeling you do as well. Over.”
“Copy Zulu-Alfa, I’ll get some breakfast down first. I’m also supposed to start my local job today, so I’ll have to prioritize depending on when the equipment gets here. Somerset out.”
Nodding, Louis set the radio aside. “How long now?” he asked.
“Two minutes,” the doctor replied, still watching. “Probably less. Be ready.”
“Roger.” The commander hovered his finger right on the enter key, so a single twitch would send the payload on its merry way. He waited, with bated breath, for Anton’s signal, whenever it would come.
Behind, though neither man heard it happen, Dr. Weiss returned to the bridge. She noted both men floating steadily in one place, and had to ask, “What is going on?”
“Hoo!” Unfortunately, this spooked Commander Darcy into hitting the return key early, thus launching the return rocket early. As he heard the ignition echo from Altair’s central spindle, he let out an “Oh merde, c’est déjà parti!” as he realized his mistake.
“. . . now,” Anton said, dejectedly, as he knew how futile the command would be now.
Louis just sighed. “If you must know, Weiss,” he explained, “we were about to launch a repurposed sample-relay rocket down to Rhysling, to deliver a replacement part to Dr. Somerset so he can fix the probe and get you your radiation readings.” He turned to the window. “Unfortunately, due to certain circumstances beyond my control, the rocket was sent too early, so it will not end up properly on course.”
Elena realized her faux pas. “A thousand apologies, Commander,” she said. “It won’t happen again.”
He said nothing, and kept his eyes on the Rhyslinger view, which was now adorned with a silvery glint of a small vessel heading into it, followed by a blue glow. That glow cut off not long after, as the rockets shut off to conserve fuel – and work to slow its descent later.
Louis and Elena had both given up on ever saving the probe, but Anton did not. He kept his eyes on the planet and the glint, carefully tracking the part’s descent. “What are you doing, Konstantinov?” Louis asked. “That part’s probably gone forever. Even if Somerset can pick up the beacon and find the rocket, I doubt it’ll be intact, either from impact, or Indigenous activity, or – ”
“Commander, sir,” Anton interrupted, pointing at the glint. “It seems we are perfectly accurate after all. Look, there is the forest, there is the settlement, there is the landing site, and now – ” the glint started to gain a red aura, as reëntry ran its course – “Dr. Somerset will have the part in his hands in only a moment’s time.”
“Quoi?” Louis returned to the window. “But how can you be so sure? We’re too high up, surely you can see that!”
“But that is the point!” insisted Anton. “We are so high up, my initial. . . erm, reckoning, that is word – was off, but now, with help from Dr. Weiss, we launched at correct opportunity to get the part in the right place!”
Now Louis had to take a second look, just to see if he was indeed right. As he watched, and as Zodiac-Altair orbited Rhysling slowly for the umpteenth time, he saw the forest and nearby settlement start to make its way to the horizon – and there it was, the sample-return rocket, glowing a fiery red from atmospheric entry, well on its way to where TPRU-1 and RPMR-1 were, and not one kilometer to the north, south, east, or west. It was perfect. It was accidentally perfect.
“So it would seem.”
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Nice to see all this ship side. I wonder how they would react to the actual level of technology in Equestria? It does very quite a bit.
1) Why is the artificial atmosphere so oxygen rich? I would have thought that unless there was a medical need for it, then they would aim for something much closer to Earth's 21% oxygen level.
2) I have a hunch that the probe was guided by pony means. A perfect landing is too improbable otherwise, even if it had been dropped at the intended time.
3) I still think him having a job is dumb. He should sent to school, not to work, at least until he has a rudimentary grasp on the language.
Assuming engines are powering the spin inertia ought to keep it moving for a long time even if the engines fail. Wouldn't it take something like a cataclysmic collision to make it stop suddenly?
This isn't strictly true, as there have been a number of asteroid sample return missions. However, the total mass of asteroid returned to earth by the three successful missions is only about 7.4 grams. The most successful mission, Hayabusa2, recovered the highest mass at 5.4 grams.
There's also the Soviet and Chinese space programs, which both performed Lunar sample return missions.
Yeah, I’m on the having a job is dumb group.
holy shit, a whole chapter without that irksome problem
There's not a single citizen of what's now Saint-Petersburg who hasn't spent at least a couple of weeks camping in the wild forests of Karelia. It's just a normal part of life for them. They don't ask if you've ever been there, they just assume that any normal person would know some of the main roads and landmarks.
Clearly, a smarter man than myself. That logic continues to elude me.
Why would their first thought be to immigrate their colony into an alien nation, rather than to attempt to find an unclaimed area to colonize and start their own society...? Even if there are no uninhabited places on Rhysling that aren't claimed by some nation or another, they can't know that yet.
As former Navy, I can confirm both that water always looks like water and a hobby is essential. I collected comic books, but my collection was destroyed by a roommate's friend's girlfriend after I got out. She left it out on the back porch in cardboard boxes in October in Oregon. It rained for days before I found out since I was moving out at the time and had been at my new place. Even with each comic in a bag, the whole thing was a loss.
The story starts out somewhat interesting and the attempts at breaking the language barrier are intriguing at first - but you soon realize that the language idea is the only shtick this story has.
The humans on the spaceship are absolutely incompetent when compared to actual astronauts. They don't seem to have any kind of training at all but have to look up everything about their equipment in manuals.
Oh, and they are so bloody international - you recognize that by generously dropped chunks of language and cultural fact droppings that feel so shoe-horned in that it makes you uncomfortable. Russians eat borscht, did you know? I'm schmort!
And even if you manage to ignore that - the behaviour of many - if not all - characters are non-sensical.
Imagine astronauts make first contact with an intelligent species. Do they care? Nah, they go "Let's do some other shit. And no, don't send pictures. They can lift stuff with their minds? Good you didn't tell us, because we probably don't want to know."
And the ponies themselves are not much better. Ok, Twilight wants to learn about their human guest, so far so good. But what's the first thought that crosses Celestia's mind when an alien from outer space waddles into her throne room? If you guessed "That guy needs a job!" then you guessed right.
Interesting premise, bad execution.
Exasperate? uhh. . . Exacerbate? Hmm, that's not an ideal fit either. Expend?
10960478
Well, these folks are from earth. In their experience there is no such thing as land that hasn't been claimed by one nation or another, so rather than hoping for something that in their experience would be the exception rather than the norm, they're preparing to integrate so they can avoid provoking a conflict before their boots even hit the ground, and hopefully get some help getting the colony started to boot. It's actually rather forward thinking.
A happy accidental coincidence, or just the random chance of a chaotic enviroment?
10960605
I do have to admit, I've been blaming it on "maybe my tastes have shifted", but this is doing a much poorer job of gripping me than other fics which share the same elements.
Nothing like having an escort ... makes it easier to get there ...
10960847
I suspect you wrote yourself into a corner and didn't plan on how to get out of the space suit.
The rest just feels like results of rudimentary characterization: this is Dr Kraut, she is German and likes Schnitzel. And this is Ivan because he's russian.
And all the effort you spent on the technical intricacies of a first contact situation doesn't do more than spark initial interest, because it doesn't seem to go anywhere.
But the largest problem I see with the story is how barely anyone behaves convincingly.
Please don't view this as an attack: This is honest criticism on what I personally identify as problems with your story. I might not even be right or in the majority with my opinion. I expected a certain type of genre (hard science fiction encounters magic) based on the premise. Maybe my expectations were wrong.
Don't doubt yourself because you didn't do right by just one guy.
It is my hope that you take something helpful from this, because people like you bring joy to the rest of us.
No packing materials to protect delicate objects?
Not even inflatable plastic balloons?
kinda losing a bit of interest here 8with how slow it is.
My problem with the whole "Adam gets a job" storyline is that he is, for all intents and purposes, a diplomat, and should really be treated with all the due respect and dignity afforded as such.
Also he has such a scattered and rudimentary grasp of the Equestrian language that that should probably be priority #1 right now, along with finding out if humans can even live long term on the planet.
10961556
He's not, though. I know fanfics often use the theme of "the first guy who meets the natives becomes the diplomat" but that's really not how diplomats work. Diplomats are very specifically appointed to the task of diplomacy by their home nation. Even by earth standards, Adam's just a foreigner who wandered across a border and is trying to learn to talk with the locals. A vital task for diplomacy, but his goal isn't diplomacy, it's to learn the local language so that he can teach it to the actual diplomat. That's a very important distinction to make. On top of that, this is Equestria, the world where dozens of sapient species, common and rare, share the same world. An unknown species walking across the border is not as world shattering an event as it would be on earth.
Actually, samples have been returned from a comet (Stardust mission to Wild 2 in 2006) and two asteroids (Hyabusa mission to 25143 Itokawa in 2010, and Hyabusa2 to 162173 Ryugu in 2014, returned in December 2020) and samples from a third asteroid, 101955 Bennu, are en route to Earth aboard the OSIRIS-REx spacecraft as we speak.
And that’s not even considering the solar wind samples collected in the early ‘00s Genesis mission, since that’s not quite the same thing.
Or that the Russians and Chinese have both gotten their own (much smaller) lunar samples returned, sans-Apollo.
10962191
Um. No. He’s the linguistics expert packed along in the freezer as a contingency measure in the event that the thinkable happened and they found intelligent life on the life-bearing world the mission’s entire purpose was to reach. Of course he’d be expected to make First Contact. And that’s not a job you pick just any old schmuck language professor for. First Contact is a diplomatic scenario, through and through. And one has to hope it goes peacefully, rather than turning into what has been called “diplomacy by other means.”
"but they said that nobody else can maintain them, that nobody else can know fully how one technology central to the ship works. I offered to instruct them on every detail of its workings, ensuring that anyone can carry out this work without me, but they refused"
Uh... huh. Yeeeeah, so... they sent apparently the one and only person who can reliably make these work on this mission? No one else trained with it, not here or back home? Implying that they can't really make and use any more back home without training people up from scratch and notes and such, too? And on the ship, there is no redundancy for him, no cross training? He offered to train more people and they refused and insisted he go? Insisted, despite him actively not wanting to and being, thanks to their own actions, vital for the proper functioning of the mission?
...And then the commander let him go out, alone, on an EVA, with most of the crew still frozen?
Yeah, no, I'm still definitely thinking that something is wrong here.
"That section of the manual showed how it had just enough fuel to return a twenty-five-kilogram sample from the surface of a body with Terrestrial-strength gravity. Most of it was dedicated to the working of the sample-return capsule itself. It was a cylindrical pill-shaped object, measuring one meter long and another fifty centimeters in diameter. It was split roughly in half – the bottom contained a rocket and fuel, and the top held the sample itself, along with a parachute for atmospheric entry, and a beacon for recovery."
...Huh.
Okay, let's see, surface gravity g=(G*M)/(r^2), and the dv to orbit dvo=((G*M)/r)^0.5, from a bit of checking. Some substitution, and dvo=(r*g)^0.5. The fact that the radius is still important complicates "with Terrestrial-strength gravity" a bit... hm. I'm not finding the planet's size anywhere, looking back now, nor do I recall if it was given. So... let's just use Earth, for this estimate. Checking around a bit, it looks like 9.3 km/s could be an optimistically low value. So, 9300=ve*ln(R). Let's say... 50 kg dry mass at full payload. Probably higher, but rough example. Propellant mass, hm. Say, 0.5 m diameter 0.5 m long cylinder of water; again, optimistic, but it gives us a number. 0.5*pi*(0.25^2)*1000 (1000 kg/m3 for the density of water) gives, say, 98 kg of propellant, as a rough estimate. So, ve=9300/(ln((98+50)/50)) gives a needed exhaust velocity of... around 8570 m/s. And the thrust has to be higher than the capsule's weight under 1 g, of course, and presumably the propellant or propellants need to be highly storable, no cryogenics. Looking at the Atomic Rockets engine list...
...Ah... Yeah, that's...
...Oh. Wait, it's actually even worse, because this needs to be built with basically OTL early 90s technology. Maybe a bit more capable, due to the different development pressures, but I doubt they've got lightweight compact fusion rockets to stick in sample return capsules.
(For comparison, this is apparently the smallest orbital launcher yet built. According to Wikipedia, it has about the same diameter as the sample return capsule but is over nine meters long and only has a payload to LEO of about four kilograms.)
So, uh. Yeah, unless I got something wrong somewhere, or am very much missing something:
Discord did it. That, or something like it, now seems more or less confirmed.
"but it is also delicate, so handle it gingerly and install it carefully"
Perhaps you should have secured it inside the capsule, then?
Eh. Well, nothing about the humans or their technology needs to make sense, we now know, at least as the things they ostensibly are. I do wonder what purpose they were created for, though -- assuming it wasn't some more purposeless manifestation of chaos.
"It was perfect. It was accidentally perfect."
Yeeeep. Pure coincidence, I'm sure. :D
10960605
"But what's the first thought that crosses Celestia's mind when an alien from outer space waddles into her throne room? If you guessed "That guy needs a job!" then you guessed right."
Well, my current leading hypothesis for that is that she's aware they're creations of Discord-or equivalent, and this is a test to see how well this Child of Chaos and the Lie of Earth can integrate with ponies -- likely part of seeing how much he's an actual person at all.
...Mind you, yes, I am aware that I am possibly just slapping my own Watsonian patches over what are really just plot holes, but it seems to be working for now? And there was that "random" even at the end of this chapter. ...But, yeah. I'm not sure if it's going to be revealed that my hypotheses here, or something like them, are actually right, oooor if the story's just kind of broken and is going to eventually push that to the point where my patches can't hold anymore. I suppose we'll see. I think my hypotheses there could make for an interesting story, though.
Either Luna or Discord seems like the probable culprit for that suspiciously perfect part delivery.
And yeah, the apparent absence of training in these astronauts is... concerning. To say nothing of the USSR’s insistence on sending literally the only person who knows how the cryogenics work on this mission. I hope he at least wrote down the specifics before leaving.
Also, seriously, who sees actual unicorns and doesn’t at least say “Hey, did you know that planet has unicorns?”
I’m still enjoying this story, but there’s a lot straining the suspension of disbelief.
10962670
This is the crew that has to grab the manual for everything, even planned events. Well thought out, this adventure is not, so I kinda do expect them to send a linguist who has zero training or authority as a diplomat. Yes, Adam is making first contact, but that does not make him a diplomat. We've seen no indication that that Adam has the authority to speak for his nation, or even the colony for that matter. If anything Adam has avoided any political diplomacy, focusing purely on his main task of deciphering the language, with a little side quest of fixing the probe. Even when Adam met with the leaders of the nation (something that only happened because the natives all but dragged him to meet them) he made no move to open official relationships between the natives and his people. That, to me, says that he is really just a linguist, not a diplomat with extensive linguistic knowledge.
10963436
Even ignoring the already stated in the story cryo-sourced mental issues that require recovery time after being defrosted (which, yes, there should be better procedures in place to deal with, assuming they knew enough about it ahead of time, which they should have...) manuals, checklists, and directions are often consulted IRL, too, with high value, high complexity, or potentially hazardous equipment, even when the person doing the consulting is an expert who’s nearly got the whole design memorized, because one mistake can ruin enormously costly hardware.
And no equipment is more valuable to an astronaut than the ship keeping them alive in the first place.
10963525
Point taken, though that still leaves us with Adam not doing any actual political ambassador-ing. It's rather unfair to expect Celestia to treat him like an ambassador when he's clearly not trying to be one.
I concur with what others have said here. The language barrier needs to be broken, and Adam doesn't need a job. Also maybe the plot should move a little more efficiently, but I'm less sure about that 3rd point.
Oh, and "no one" is a perfectly suitable sequence of words to write. You don't have to do the umlaut thing every time two of the same vowel are near each other. Maybe sometimes, but not every single time. It's distracting.
10967945
Why not.
I think they are very valid plot points and obvi having a job as a shop keeper will very greatly help in breaking the language barrier while also proving to equestria that the aliens are willing to "play ball" with society. Besides ive read alot of laungage barrier stories and i can tell this one is super fleshed out and the author is passionate about its structure and i think its pretty cool to think about differing verbal structures. Not to menton alot of other fanfics i read that got rid of it generraly lose the biggest tension they have sending the story right to the trash.
I don't want no freeloadin' alien space monkeys eatin' up all mah apples fer free! GET A JOB, DEADBEATS!!
10960291
This story takes place in Earth year 1997, long before those asteroid sample-return missions would have taken place.