Arrival (3 page)

“You know, I don’t think her father even said goodbye to her when we left.”

“I
didn’t
know that.”

“I think she’s just looking for acceptance. She doesn’t really fit in with Laura and Maria in the ‘mother’s club’, and Adia and Will are too reclusive to hit it off with anyone. And the testosterone twins…”

“Who?” Jack asked.

“Mac and Tony,” Frank explained. “Sara nicknamed them ‘the testosterone twins.’ Kind of fits, actually. Anyway, they’re too macho for her. And I think Sara scares Lynn. Hell, Sara scares me.”

Jack was surprised at Frank’s assessment of the crew. He had never known his friend to play the psychologist. “I guess I see what you mean.” Jack rubbed his sore right hand through the bandage. “So what do you suggest?” Jack asked. “How should I handle her?”

“Maybe the next time you have to cut her short, you can take the time to explain your logic to her. If there’s time, of course. Help her learn.”

“Practical advice,” Jack agreed, “but I still think it would be easier to toss her out the airlock.”

“She’d probably put up too much of a fight,” Frank laughed.

“That she would,” Jack chuckled. “I just have one question for you, Frank,”

“What’s that?”

“When the hell did you become such an expert in psychology?”

Frank laughed, straightening up from where he had wedged himself in and turned to leave. “I had a few discreet conversations with Maria.”

“Oh, great!” Jack objected in mock anger. “So now the ship’s physician knows about it!”

“Hey, what are friends for?” Frank joked as he drifted out the door.

Jack let out a long breath.
Crap,
he thought to himself. He was tired of dealing with everyone’s problems and insecurities. This position was akin to babysitting a bunch of children, not at all what he had expected. Being in command of a mission of exploration was supposed to be challenging, exciting, and adventurous. So far, it was proving tedious and boring.

He thought back to the stories his great-grandfather used to tell about his days back on Earth, flying a rescue helicopter for the Navy, first off a carrier and then out of San Diego. On his “bird,” as he called it, he had plucked many a downed pilot out of the ocean, often in the midst of storms. When he took his first command in San Diego, his great-grandfather had a whole squadron under him. He had even flown, and eventually commanded, the space shuttle. That had led to his most exciting assignment; commanding Luna Station for the Eden Project. He had been in charge of the very facilities that would later build the Daedalus
and
the Icarus. It was no wonder that Jack’s great-grandfather had ended up commanding the Daedalus for the first thirty years of its journey.

Jack had been fascinated by his great-grandfather’s stories when he was a young lad. Fascinated and inspired. It had been his great-grandfather’s ramblings—as his father referred to them—that made Jack want to become a pilot, and then to seek command of the Icarus. It had upset his mother and father to no end. Jack’s grandfather, Alex, had died as the result of being in command. And at his widow’s request, Jack’s father had followed in his mother’s career path instead of his father’s, and great-grandfather’s. Thus, Jack’s parents had expected him to follow in
their
footsteps and become a teacher. It was a role that was well respected in Daedalian society. Unfortunately, it wasn’t for Jack. He wanted something more exciting… He wanted to command
this
mission.

Some excitement
, Jack thought, almost bitterly. He removed his lap restraint and rose from his seat, floating in the center of his room. He stuck his fingertips inside the ventilation ducts indenting the edge of the ceiling’s dome light fixture. Hooking his toes into the floor restraints, he twisted his body around, stretching out the muscles in his back, shoulders, and chest. He repeated this ritual at least three times a day; it felt so good. He knew he must be at least three centimeters taller after four months in zero gravity and wondered how long it would take for his spinal column to compress back to normal once on the planet’s surface.

Finished with his stretches, Jack kicked off his deck shoes, leaving them floating on the other side of the room. He pulled out his sleep sack from a locker, hooking each end to opposite bulkheads. He unzipped it and climbed inside, zipping up only the interior netting to hold him floating in place. He reached up and turned off the overhead light, leaving the bunk light on behind his head. He looked at the pictures on the wall to his right. His wife and children, his parents, and great-grandpa, still alive after all these years. The old guy was one of only three original crew members still living, and would be celebrating his one hundred and eighth birthday on the surface of the new world, whichever one they ended up choosing.

Jack switched off the light and turned the room ventilators on high to drown out extraneous noises from elsewhere in the ship—a trick old-man Wilkins had taught him many years ago. In the darkness, he worried about all the personnel problems he had dealt with in the last few months.
Oh well, I’m sure everyone will find it easier to get along after we get down on the surface and get a little more elbow room
, he thought as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

CHAPTER TWO

Tony passed gracefully through the hatch from the forward section of the Icarus, which contained various laboratories, agricultural bays, and storage lockers. Once inside the midship airlock, he pivoted in mid-flight and gently pushed off of the aft bulkhead of the airlock. He carefully closed the hatch and checked the seal, then slowly turned, scanning the other three hatches that led to the port airlock, aft habitat bay, and starboard auxiliary docking airlock. Satisfied they were all properly secured, he made his way up into the transfer tube that led to the LRV, closing and securing the hatch at the bottom of the tube behind him. As he pulled himself along, hand over hand, it occurred to him that he would not pass through this tube again for at least two months. It seemed funny that even though they had all complained about their cramped living space, he would miss the familiarity of the Icarus after they reached the surface.

Once inside the small airlock of the LRV, he secured the outer hatches of both the transfer tube and the LRV, then ascended one more level into the midship compartment between the flight deck and the passenger corridor.
One last hatch to close
, he thought as he sealed the airlock’s inner hatch.

As he moved aft into the passenger corridor, he could see the rest of the crew securing themselves into their flight seats. At the back of the compartment, Mac, who minutes earlier had made a similar inspection of the Icarus from aft to midship, was settling into his seat in the last row next to Will.

Tony looked at each of his crewmates, ensuring they were all strapped in, with helmet visors closed and locked, and life-support packs in standby mode. Each of their faces betrayed their varying levels of stress. From Adia, who was scared to death and strapped in so tight she could hardly breathe, to Mac, who, at the back of the compartment, was either too aloof or too stupid to be nervous.

Tony turned and pulled himself down into his seat, attaching the thigh straps across his legs, buckling them into their receptacles just in front of his crotch. Pulling the tails of the thigh straps snug, he tucked them into their belt loops to keep them from floating about. Then he twisted his arms through the shoulder harness, first left then right, and attached both the waist and chest buckles, pulling them snug as well. “Everyone ready?”

“Ready as we’ll ever be,” Maria responded with strained enthusiasm.

“Let’s start this ride, already!” Mac insisted with gusto.

Tony looked up at the flight status display on the forward overhead monitor. There were less than five minutes left before the Icarus would make contact with the upper atmosphere, and begin its aero-braking maneuver. He was suddenly very conscious of the emergency escape tube to his right. If they had to abandon both the Icarus and the LRV in the event of a catastrophe, it was his responsibility to activate the system and get everyone to the emergency escape pod in the drop pod bay on the underside of the aft end of the Icarus. The entire evacuation process was supposed to take less than two minutes, after which the system would shut down, permanently sealing the fate of anyone left behind.

That would be the hard part, of course. He wasn’t supposed to wait for the flight crew. His job was to get the six other crew members into the chute, and immediately follow them. Those were the rules, and he understood them. He just hoped he would never have to abandon the flight crew.

Tony switched his comm-set to the primary channel. “Frank, this is Tony.”

“
Yes, Tony,
” Frank’s voice crackled through the comm-set.

“The Icarus is secure, LRV set at condition yellow. We’re ready to go back here.”

Frank looked at the ship’s status board. No red lights. “Copy that, Tony,” he called through his comm-set. “Standby…” Frank looked at the mission chronometer, checking it against the LRV’s chronometer. “Ship is set at condition yellow, Jack. The board is green and all systems show ready. One minute to terminal course change.”

“Very well,” Jack responded. “Execute insertion burn.”

“Executing insertion burn,” Lynn replied.

There was a slight jolt that sent a shudder through the LRV, followed by the low hiss of chemical jets spraying their exhaust out into the void of space, causing a slight change in the ship’s attitude.

“Deceleration engines are ready to burn,” Frank reported.

“Insertion burn in five…” Jack started.

It was the last burn they would execute on their approach to Tau Ceti Five. It was also the only burn that would be done with their dedicated deceleration engines, instead of flipping the ship over to use their main engines.

“Four…”

Without this burn, the Icarus would be traveling too fast to execute her aero-braking maneuver, and instead would loop around the planet and be flung out the other side.

“Three…”

“Fuel pumps are on…”

“Two…”

“Decel is armed…”

“One……execute,” Jack instructed.

Frank activated the Icarus’s deceleration engines. He immediately felt a low rumble throughout the ship. It was nowhere near as intense as the deceleration burns they had conducted using the main engines, but it was coming from the front of the ship rather than from the back, so it felt more pronounced.

All three of them watched their displays as the Icarus slowly altered her course and speed, coming to align itself with Tau Ceti Five’s upper atmosphere.

Thirty seconds into the insertion, Frank made the announcement. “Coming up on PNR.”

Jack glanced at his flight display, checking that all the numbers were correct before committing to the insertion.

“Point of no return in five…” Frank warned.

Everything on Jack’s flight display looked correct. “Continue the burn,” Jack ordered.

“I concur,” Lynn replied.

There was no turning back now.

“Continuing the burn,” Frank acknowledged.

For another sixty seconds, Jack watched the ship’s speed decrease at the expected rate.

“Decel engines cutoff in five seconds,” Frank announced.

Jack smiled. They were going to end their insertion burn on schedule, at the exact target speed for aero-braking. The week long process of deceleration was nearly complete.

“Three……two……one……DECO,” Frank announced, as he tapped the button to kill the deceleration engines. The low rumble stopped, and the flight deck again fell silent.

“Insertion burn complete,” Lynn announced calmly.

“Deceleration engines off. Fuel pumps off. Decel engines confirmed cold,” Frank reported.

Jack turned to Lynn. “That was perfect, Lynn. Absolutely perfect.”

“Thank you, sir,” Lynn replied, a small smile forming at the corner of her mouth.

“
Four minutes to aero-braking,
” Frank’s voice announced over the comm-sets.

Maria checked her restraints again and glanced over at Adia, who was looking a bit pale. Adia reminded Maria of her own daughter—small and fragile. It saddened Maria to think of how long it had been since she last saw her family, and how much longer she would still have to wait to see them again. Sixteen months was an eternity to be apart from those she loved. Her children would be a year and a half older, a dozen centimeters taller, and a few kilograms heavier by the time she saw them again. She just hoped her husband wouldn’t be a few kilograms heavier too. He had been finishing off the children’s leftovers from dinner when her back was turned. He was already getting thicker around the middle, which was a sin on the Daedalus. Food was strictly rationed, especially since they had begun to allow more offspring per family, in preparation for their arrival.

“Let’s open the balloot bay doors, Frank,” Jack ordered.

Frank called up the balloot control display on his console. He activated the power for the doors, harnesses and inflation systems, waiting for them to show ready. “Balloot system shows ready, opening balloot bay doors,” he announced, tapping the button on his console.

There was a moment of silence from both the crew and the ship. Then, from deep inside the bow of the Icarus, a low, grinding sound transmitted from the bay door motors through the frame of the ship as they struggled to open the doors for the first time in over sixty years.

Jack leaned forward slightly to see the bow of the Icarus jutting out below them. He watched as the topside doors sank slightly, kicking free the dust that had collected in their seams over the decades, and began to roll open from the center line outward. With the sun behind them, he could see nothing but dark shadows inside the bays as the doors parted. When the doors opened wider, sunlight reflecting off one of the approaching planet’s two moons began to illuminate the deflated balloots’ gold and silver metallic surfaces, causing them to shine brightly.

“Balloot doors open and locked,” Frank reported. He refrained from letting go a sigh of relief.

“Inflate the balloots,” Jack instructed.

Frank activated the sequencer. The inflation rate of all five balloots had to be carefully monitored to ensure they would be set properly when finished. If they ended up out of alignment, the red-hot plasma created during aero-braking might leak through between the balloots and wreak havoc on the rest of the ship. “Inflation systems charged, sequencer activated, pressures are coming up.”

Jack continued to watch through the forward windows as the balloots began to flap, as if blown from deep within the ship. Then, slowly, they began to rise. It was gradual at first, with the subtlest of surges, but soon they began to peek out from within their coffins, bulging outward as they took shape. He glanced over at Lynn, who was also watching, her mouth slightly open in awe of the view from the bow. The balloots continued to grow, their folds disappearing as they rounded out into smooth patterns of gold and silver, with black bands covering their seams.

“Wow,” Lynn whispered, “it’s beautiful.”

The balloots continued to expand as the pumps filled them with inert gas. Five of them, one on each side, on the top and bottom, and one around the bow of the Icarus. Frank watched his displays carefully as the balloots filled out, ensuring they were inflating evenly. Finally, the inflation was complete. The pumps went into standby, and the silent ballet came to a close.

“Balloots at maximum pressure, alignment looks good, harnesses look good, all systems show ready for aero-braking,” Frank announced confidently, letting out a barely audible sigh of relief.

The port balloot shifted slightly, its alignment marker offset from that of its neighbor. As Frank was about to point out the discrepancy, it spontaneously fell back into alignment.
Probably just settling in
, he thought.

“Very well,” Jack commented as he and Lynn settled back into their seats.

“One minute to aero-braking,” Frank added, tightening up his harnesses.

Jack’s mind began to wander as he tightened his own harness. His thoughts drifted down to the planet’s surface below. In a few short hours, he would be the first human being to set foot on an extrasolar planet. The moment had not been important to him before. After all, his people had set new records every minute of every day, since their voyage began over three generations ago. None of them, with the exception of the few remaining original crew members, had ever known a life outside of the Daedalus. All of their lives had been leading up to this moment in time. All to get to this system, perhaps even
this
planet.

Lynn ran the aero-braking procedures over in her head. She thought about the things Frank had said to her after the last deceleration burn. He was right, she
did
lack experience, and the rushed manner in which she was trained for this mission also left her at a disadvantage. But she
was
the best pilot on the Daedalus. Better than all the Ishkins combined. Her sim scores had proven that. She still couldn’t understand what the others had against her and longed for an opportunity to show them what she could do, what she was
capable
of doing. If they would just give her a chance.

“Fuel pumps on standby.” Out of the corner of his eye, Frank noticed the balloots shifting again. But before he could turn to look closer, they once again quickly fell back into place. “Reactor plant safe at two percent.” Frank looked up at the mission chronometer.

“
Thirty seconds to aero-braking,
” their comm-sets crackled.

Maria reached across the narrow aisle and took Adia’s hand. It was pale, even for Adia, and it was trembling. Adia accepted her hand without hesitation, her helmet still pointed straight ahead. Maria wasn’t sure, it was difficult to see Adia’s face with her helmet on, but she suspected her eyes were shut.

Sara was also scared, but she wasn’t about to let the others know, especially Mac. Surprisingly, she thought of her husband. Brad was a nice enough guy, not too bad looking either. He subscribed to the same traditions to which the previous generations clung so dearly, but at least he understood and respected her beliefs, even though he had tried to change her point of view on more than one occasion.

Still, he wasn’t really a husband. At least not in the true sense of the word. But then, the others weren’t either. Most of them had learned to amiably live together after being assigned respective mates based on the genetics tables. But after two years of marriage, they had drifted apart, just as she knew they would. Sara suspected that Brad was having an affair with his co-worker in the biogenetics lab. But at least he was being discreet about it. He even came to see her off, keeping up appearances for her sake.

A few seats over, Laura wasn’t necessarily calm, but she was under control. She wasn’t the type to worry about things over which she had no control. She had grown up on a sixty-year-old spaceship hurtling through the cosmos at nearly twenty percent light speed. There were so many things out there that could have killed them without warning, so worrying about the unknown could drive a person to insanity. Instead, she chose
not
to contemplate every possible danger ahead of her.