Ep.#9 - "Resistance" (8 page)

“Then you’ll just have to get us down on the first pass, Ensign,” Lieutenant Commander Kovacic said.

“Easy for you to say,” Luis mumbled as he started checking his burn profile.

* * *

“The shuttle is about to jump,” Cameron informed him as Nathan approached the Aurora’s port side tactical station.

Nathan watched the main view screen as the shuttle continued flying ahead of them, becoming smaller as the distance between the two vessels increased. Just as the shuttle was about to fade from view, it glowed blue-white for a split second, then flashed as it jumped away.

“I’ll be in my ready room,” he announced as he turned and headed aft.

Nathan went straight to his desk and returned to his monitor to study the ship’s daily reports. As he took his seat, Cameron entered the ready room as well.

“Did you tell him?” she asked, her face impassive.

“I told him.”

“How did you tell him?”

“I was quite specific in my orders.”

“How did he react?” Cameron wondered.

“He acknowledged that he understood the order,” Nathan explained. “Then he said he would have done exactly as I ordered regardless. He knows the score.”

“The man scares me,” Cameron said. “One minute he’s polite and professional; the next minute you’d swear he’s about to tear someone’s head off, especially with the Takarans.”

“The man has been through a lot.”

“We all have, Nathan.”

Nathan shook his head. “Not like him. We give orders and push buttons. We watch the destruction unfold as data feeds on various monitors. We may fly into harm’s way, but we don’t stand in the thick of it with nothing more than a gun and some body armor. People like Waddell, Jessica, Sergeant Weatherly… those are the type of people who do.”

“You did back on Haven,” Cameron said.

“Only for a brief time,” Nathan said, waving the comparison off with one hand, “and not because I chose to, but because I had no alternative. It’s not the same. If I had known what was going to happen on Haven, I never would have left the ship.”

Cameron sighed. “Sometimes I can’t tell if Waddell even cares if he lives or dies.”

“Maybe he doesn’t,” Nathan said. “Maybe that’s not a bad thing, though, as long as he cares about getting the job done.”

“Kind of a cold way to look at things, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps,” Nathan said. “But perhaps it’s also the best way to look at things, given the circumstances.”

“Perhaps,” Cameron agreed. “You know, we are taking a big risk by sending them to Tanna. We know nothing about this resistance. For all we know, they could be an intelligence gathering unit for the Jung.”

“Trying to fill the conspiracy-theory void left by Jessica being away?”

“Somebody has to,” she said.

“We both know we have no choice. We need propellant. We need intel on the Jung. The Tanna resistance has the highest probability of providing us with useful intelligence with the least expenditure of resources.”

“Is that how you look at our crew now?” Cameron said, one eyebrow raised. “As resources?”

“I was speaking about propellant,” Nathan said, “but I suppose I
should
look at the crew that way as well.”

* * *

“Engineering reports reactor one is running at ten percent,” Ensign Souza reported from the Celestia’s comm station. “Reactors two, three, and four are all holding at less than one percent.”

“I’ve got our nose down as far as I can while continuing to align the deceleration thrust ports with our actual course,” Luis said. “Any more and our center of gravity will be too far off to compensate for it with maneuvering thrusters.”

“Sounds good to me,” Lieutenant Commander Kovacic answered.

“Coming up on the first burn threshold in twenty seconds,” Luis added as his eyes double-checked his flight displays. He had run over his procedures at least a dozen times in the last twenty minutes, even referencing them against the Celestia’s flight manual. Although the manual covered all operational aspects of piloting the massive starship, it offered absolutely no advice for ‘settling’ the ship onto the surface of a small moon, even one with as little gravity as Metis. To Luis, the fact that the authors of the manual never considered such a maneuver was in itself a bad sign. “Ten seconds. Powering up outboard mains. Engines one and four show ready. Five seconds.”

They had been cold-coasting for two and a half months. This would be the first time they would be doing anything on the bridge other than staring at unchanged displays or running training simulations on their consoles. It was also the first time in over two months that all eight of the men living on the Celestia’s isolated command deck were on the bridge at the same time. Months of mind-numbing tedium followed by an hour of intense maneuvering seemed an odd lifestyle to Luis. Fortunately, if he could successfully set the ship down on the surface of Metis, it would likely be the end of his flying career.

The countdown display reached zero. Luis pressed the button on his console, executing his preprogrammed command to fire their only two operational engines at a small fraction of their capable output.

“Mains are burning at one percent,” he announced. There was almost no sensation that anything was happening other than a barely audible rumble reverberating through the ship’s framework. “Throttling up slowly to ten percent.”

“I’m not feeling anything,” Lieutenant Commander Kovacic said, seeming surprised.

“At such a low thrust level, you won’t,” Ensign Schenker said. “Even with only one reactor running at only ten percent, that’s enough power for the inertial dampening systems to compensate. When we hit phase two of our approach, trust me; we’ll feel it.”

“Looking forward to it,” the lieutenant commander said as he rolled his eyes.

“Ten percent thrust and holding,” Luis reported from the helm. “We’ll maintain this thrust level for another fifty-seven minutes. That should slow us down enough that Jupiter’s gravity will pull us into a high orbit.”

“I’m assuming you double-checked your calculations,” the lieutenant commander said.

“They aren’t my calculations, sir,” Luis answered. “They’re the flight computer’s… and yes, I did double-check them, several times, in fact.”

* * *

A small flash of light appeared in the night sky above Tanna. The flash appeared to move laterally against the background of stars for a brief moment before it faded away.

The night air of Tanna rushed into the jump shuttle as its rear cargo hatch split in half horizontally. The two halves separated and swung in opposite directions, one upward and one down. A few seconds later, both halves were parallel to one another as well as to the line of the shuttle itself, the bottom half now forming a deck of sorts that extended out the back of the shuttle.

Major Waddell and Loki stood just inside the aft end of the shuttle facing the open cargo hatch, fully encased in their jump rigs.

“Are you ready?” Major Waddell asked over the helmet comm.

“
No…
” Loki’s voice trembled.

“Good. Remember, radio silence from this point forward.”

“
No…
” Loki repeated, trembling even more. He turned and looked at the Major as the technicians unplugged the comm-lines from both their suits. “
No…”

Major Waddell looked at Loki’s face. He could see his mouth forming the word ‘no’ in repeated fashion. He gave him a thumbs up sign and pushed him toward the aft end of the ramp. Holding Loki’s left arm at his elbow, the major guided the frightened pilot in a jog toward the aft edge of the ramp where they both jumped off into the darkness.

Without the suit-comms turned on, Major Waddell couldn’t hear Loki screaming as they fell. With the air rushing past their helmets, he also couldn’t hear the fizzle of the shuttle’s jump field. He did see the light of the departure jump as it reflected off the top of the clouds they were falling toward. A few seconds later, those very same clouds enveloped them.

CHAPTER THREE

“All hands report ready for burn, sir,” Ensign Souza reported from the Celestia’s comm station. “All supplies are secured, all loose equipment has been tied down, and all personnel have positioned themselves with their backs against aft bulkheads and facing forward.”

“They made sure that nothing forward of them could come flying aft, right?” Lieutenant Commander Kovacic asked.

“Yes, sir. Everyone knows what to do.”

“Very well.” The lieutenant commander turned forward toward the helm. “Time to maximum burn mark?”

“One minute,” Luis reported from the helm.

The lieutenant commander looked around his command chair. “Sure wish they’d thought to put seat belts on this thing.”

“With full inertial dampeners, we’re not supposed to need them,” Ensign Schenker said.

“I’m sure that will be a comforting thought if I go flying back-first into the tactical console, Ensign.”

“Forty-five seconds,” Luis reported.

“Tell engineering to stand by to bring the reactors up to full power,” the lieutenant commander ordered.

“Aye, sir,” Ensign Souza answered.

“Ten seconds until we slip behind the horizon and lose line of sight with Earth,” Ensign Schenker reported from the sensor station.

“Thirty seconds to burn,” Luis announced. His attention darted about the helm console, as he performed last moment checks of all his systems. As best he could tell, everything was ready for full power.

“Be ready to pitch over into tail-first attitude as soon as we duck behind Jupiter,” Lieutenant Commander Kovacic reminded Luis.

“I’m ready, sir.”

“Three seconds to line-of-sight horizon,” Ensign Schenker reported.

“Two……”

“Engineering, bridge,” Lieutenant Commander Kovacic called over his comm-set.

“One……”

“
Engineering. Go ahead, sir,
” Tilly’s voice answered over the comm-set.

“Zero.”

“All reactors to full power,” the lieutenant commander ordered.

“We’ve lost line of sight with Earth,” Ensign Schenker announced.

“Helm, pitch over.”

“
All reactors to full, aye,
” Tilly acknowledged.

“Deceleration thrusters at zero. Pitching over,” Luis answered. “Fifteen seconds to max burn.”

“As soon as those reactors are at full power, bring up the inertial dampeners as much as possible, Mister Tilly,” the lieutenant commander added.

“Aye, sir,” Ensign Tilly answered.

“Bring up all sensors and navigational systems,” the lieutenant commander ordered. “I want active tracking of all objects between us and Metis, especially Metis.”

“Aye, sir!” Ensign Schenker said.

“Pitch maneuver complete,” Luis reported. “Ship’s attitude is level to flight path,” Luis announced. “Flying tail first. Five seconds to max burn.”

“
Bridge, engineering. Reactors one through four at full power. Bringing up inertial dampeners.
”

“Four……”

“Very well. Comms, all hands, brace for hard deceleration burn,” Lieutenant Commander Kovacic ordered.

“Three……”

“All hands! Brace for hard deceleration burn!” Ensign Souza announced over the ship’s comm-network and loudspeakers as he placed both hands on his forward facing console.

“Two……”

Lieutenant Commander Kovacic placed his hands on either armrest of his command chair, also bracing himself.

“One……” Luis braced himself against his console as he pressed the button to initiate the burn sequence he had programmed earlier.

“Zero.” Luis put his left hand against the edge of his console as the one-second execution delay expired, and the engines began their gradual increase in power. “Mains are hot,” Luis announced. “Throttle-up sequence initiated.”

At first, all they felt was a low rumble reverberating throughout the ship, much as they had when they first pulled away from the Orbital Assembly Platform over Earth two and a half months earlier. The vibrations quickly grew in intensity as electrical energy from the ship’s four antimatter reactors poured into both engines’ propellant acceleration tunnels, sending the gases rocketing out the thrust ports at incredible speeds.

Luis sank into his seat with increasing force as the engines throttled up. The inertial dampening systems attempted to keep pace with the rapid increase in the amount of thrust being generated by the Celestia’s two main outboard engines. Unfortunately, they had not been properly calibrated and tested prior to departure, resulting in a lag in performance.

“Passing twenty percent thrust,” Luis announced with a little difficulty.

Lieutenant Commander Kovacic looked around. “Not really feeling it. The inertial dampeners must be working.”

“The burn curve has just started, sir,” Luis warned. “It’s going to get worse.”

The lieutenant commander continued to look around as he was pushed into his seat with steadily increasing force.

“Dampeners at ten percent,” Ensign Souza reported.

“Passing twenty-five percent thrust,” Luis announced.

“Okay, now I’m starting to feel it,” the lieutenant commander struggled to announce.

“Passing thirty percent thrust.”

“Dampeners at twenty percent power,” Ensign Souza added.

“Passing thirty-five percent thrust,” Luis struggled to report.

“How high do we have to go?” the lieutenant commander was barely able to ask.

“One hundred percent of our current thrust capability, sir,” Luis reported.

“Dampeners at thirty percent…”

“Passing forty percent thrust,” Luis announced. He knew that the inertial dampeners, even at less than half their rated performance levels, were already having a significant effect. Without them, most of the crew would already be dead or, at the very least, unconscious.

“We’re at fifty percent of max thrust!”

“Jesus!” the lieutenant commander swore as the bridge shook violently.

“Dampeners at forty percent power and still rising!” Ensign Souza reported.

“Fifty-five percent!” Luis could barely make out the readings on his console due to the vibrations.

“Forty-five percent!” Ensign Souza reported.

“Passing sixty percent thrust!” Luis could feel the pressure on his torso lifting slowly as the ability of the inertial dampeners to counteract the force of acceleration continued to improve.

“Inertial dampeners are at fifty percent!”

“Sixty-five!” Luis reported.

Luis continued to report their thrust levels as the Celestia’s main engines burned at an ever increasing rate. Right along with him, Ensign Souza also relayed the power levels of the inertial dampening systems as they were relayed to him from engineering.

“Coming up on max burn!” Luis reported.

“Inertial dampeners are at eighty percent power!” Ensign Souza added.

“Max burn!” Luis reported. “Engines one and four are now at full power, sir!”

Lieutenant Commander Kovacic waited, expecting to hear the same report from Ensign Souza, but did not. “Mister Souza?”

“That’s it, sir,” Ensign Souza reported. “Engineering reports they can’t raise the power levels in the inertial dampening systems any more than eighty-five percent, not in their uncalibrated state. Too much risk of sudden failure.”

“Sir,” Luis said, “if the inertial dampeners were to suddenly fail while we’re at full power…”

“I know, like a bug on a windshield.” The lieutenant commander looked around the bridge. The inertial dampeners were doing their job. The ship was being shaken violently, but it was holding together… for now. “How long do we have to maintain this burn, Mister Delaveaga?”

“Twenty-three minutes, sir,” Luis said, no happier about the situation than the lieutenant commander.

Lieutenant Commander Kovacic sighed. “Ensign Souza, tell engineering to dial the power levels on the inertial dampeners back down to eighty-percent. Let’s not push our luck.”

“Yes, sir!”

“And tell him to feel free to take it down even farther if he feels it’s necessary.”

* * *

Unable to see anything in the darkness outside his helmet, Loki watched the displays on the inside of his helmet visor as the automated navigation system of his Corinari space-jump rig guided his descent. The rig’s terrain-following sensors clearly depicted the narrow opening of the canyon as it rushed up toward him. Loki tried not to imagine the dark canyon walls about to envelope him on both sides. His breathing quickened, as did his pulse, which felt as if it were in his throat. His long descent through the atmosphere of Tanna had been harrowing enough for one day.

The lines on his visor representing the canyon walls slid up and to the sides of his visor, indicating that he had now fallen below the upper ridges of the canyon. The walls were closing in on him as the canyon narrowed. He felt small servos in his backpack activate as the system initiated a slow right turn to match the bend in the canyon. As he turned, he began to see faint images, as the tiny amount of light reflected off Tanna’s third moon faintly illuminated the massive rock walls. Those flashes of visibility only made matters worse, turning the imaginary lines on his visor into real-world obstacles threatening his very life.

The altimeter readout on his visor counted down the meters to touchdown. He followed the lines that compared his actual flight path to the one the navigation system was trying to follow. For the most part, it was doing a good job, with only minor variations that were quickly corrected whenever a servo hummed from behind him.

Where is that landing site?
Loki wondered. He was falling at five meters per second, which seemed too fast to him. The numbers in the display were green, and green meant good.

The rig’s automatic navigation system performed two more gentle turns, following the canyon’s snaking curves and adjusting for the gusts of wind that danced off the canyon walls.

I’m getting awfully low,
he thought.
Any time now…
“There!” The flat clearing appeared on his visor as a long, green trapezoid moving from left to right as it came out from behind the canyon wall around the next bend. He could almost see the moonlight reflecting off the tall grass as it waved in the night breeze. Within a minute, the trapezoid was passing under him. The far end was also coming toward him awfully fast, and he was still falling at just under five meters per second. He was thirty meters above the landing site, which itself was nearly a kilometer in altitude above the planet’s sea level.

Twenty-five meters and falling. The trapezoid on his visor was rapidly becoming both wider and shorter. His forward velocity was still two meters per second, and his descent rate was still five. Tuck and roll was not going to work, not at that combination of speeds.

Twenty meters and falling. The trapezoid was now wider than his visor. All that was left was the horizontal line representing the far end of the landing field. On the other side was a forty meter drop, at the bottom of which was a rocky canyon floor.

Fifteen meters and falling. Servos hummed, and his forward speed began to fall. One and a half meters per second, then one, then one half.

Ten meters and falling. More servos hummed. His body swung forward slightly under his canopy.

Five meters still to fall, and Loki appeared to have all but stalled in his descent. He drew his arms up and crossed them in front of his chest, hugging the reserve chute pack. He tucked his feet and knees together just as he had done in practice. He bent his knees slightly.

The ground hit the soles of his boots hard, harder than they had during his landing practice jumps in the Aurora’s hangar deck. His knees almost buckled, but he managed to twist his body to his right and allow the little bit of forward momentum remaining to carry him forward and down onto his left side. He rolled over once before rolling himself back in the opposite direction to avoid getting tangled in his own chute lines.

“Retract! Retract! Retract!” He called out to his rig management computer through the comm-set built into his helmet. He could feel his back humming as the motors winched his main chute back into his jump pack for easy storage. The last thing he needed was for a gust of wind to fill up his chute, pick him up, and drag him over the edge of the cliff.

Loki remained face down in the tall grass, fighting to keep his body steady as the motors in his jump pack reeled the billowing parachute back in. Several times, he felt the parachute catch on something, threatening to pull him across the field toward the chute, instead of pulling the chute toward him. Finally, the motors stopped, and the cover on the pack slammed shut.

Loki relaxed for the moment, lying face down on the grass in the darkness of the Tanna night. After several moments, he finally got to his hands and knees, then onto just his knees. He reached up and unlocked his helmet, pulling it up and off his head.

The air on Tanna was fresh and warm, even in the dead of the early morning hours. He could hear the distant roar of the waterfalls, the same ones that he and Josh had inadvertently flown through during their first visit to this world. At least he knew he had landed in the right spot. But where was the major?

Loki looked around the clearing as he quickly unbuckled his chest pack and the main pack on his back. Remembering his instructions, he remained low, staying on his knees as he removed his jump gear and prepared it for disposal.

There was very little light in this narrow part of the canyon, as the high walls blocked a direct view of any of Tanna’s moons. Loki thought he heard movement in the field behind him, but like his own gear, the major’s was painted a dull black and gray with antireflective coatings and, therefore, was nearly impossible to see in such poorly lit conditions. Loki’s orders had been to remove his jump gear, stay low, and stay put. Major Waddell was to find him. If he did not, Loki was to seek better cover as close to the landing site as was safe.

With his gear off and piled neatly on the ground, Loki took a position on the ground, tucked safely behind his pile of gear, on the side that left the least amount of open field behind him. With his sidearm drawn and ready, he watched and waited.

* * *

“Have you even considered what message you might send?” Vladimir asked as he cut his dollag steak. “Assuming the lieutenant’s super jump shuttle actually works,” he added as he stabbed a piece of the meat and put it into his mouth.

Nathan looked across the dining table in the captain’s mess at his friend. “You don’t think it will work?”

“Oh, I’m sure it will. It may take longer than his original estimates, but he will make it work. He is a very smart man.”

“I still think it’s a waste of time,” Cameron said as she picked at her salad.

Nathan looked surprised. “You think it’s a waste of time to send a message back to the Pentaurus cluster?”

“No, I think it’s a waste of time to fiddle around with the hybrid jump drive concept. We already know the two technologies don’t work well together.”