Hill extended a hand and hauled her to her feet. He watched as she straightened her coveralls. “You have dirt on your face,” he said before peering inside the lander. “Making some modifications?”
O’Connell scrubbed a knuckle over her face which only smeared the grease stain. “Yes sir. We needed more room in there for the box scanners. Fortunas wants as much information as possible.” She waved her dirty hand at the mass of crates. “Soil samples, barometric pressure gauges, rain water collectors, he wants me to carry just about the entire science department with me.”
“And the weight?”
Lieutenant Guttmann joined the conversation. “She’s meant to be a cargo hauler, sir. She’s nowhere close to the weight limit; there’s plenty of room to spare. We think.”
Captain Hill shot a questioning glance at his engineering officer.
“You see, sir,” O’Connell interjected. “The specifications as far as load were designed for entering an Earth-like atmosphere or for space travel. We just aren’t sure what kind of conditions I’ll be facing down there, so we’re fudging the numbers on the safe side—the
very
safe side.”
Hill turned and moved away. He crooked his finger, gesturing for O’Connell to follow him. Swede gave her a reassuring wink and went back to examining the wing struts.
“I recall sending you to your quarters last night.”
“Yes, sir. But before that we discussed…”
“I recall that.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose and silently willed his headache to hold off for a few more hours. Somehow that didn’t seem likely with O’Connell intent on driving him insane. “I decided to send Price.”
O’Connell gave a slight shrug. “Yes, sir, but I don’t trust anyone else to fly into that atmosphere. I’ve been studying the readouts for most of the last twenty four hours. I have some serious concerns about the pressure differentials and the wind gradients. You don’t want Price down there show-boating. To be perfectly frank, sir, I’m not entirely sure
I
can land at the designated landing zone.” Her tone and demeanor were picture-perfect contrite.
The captain considered that shocking admission of doubt from the usually confident pilot. His fingers still itched to shake her like a rag doll. The pain behind his eyes throbbed into brighter awareness. “I’d like a science officer to accompany you. I believe that our original mission specs had two people in the lander. Who will you take?”
“Specialist Mangoda would be my first choice, sir. He was Fortunas’ first choice as well.”
“He’s a medic, not one of Fortunas’ group.”
“Yes, sir, but he’s classically trained and will be as much of a help as any other scientist. Also, he understands the risks and has basic flight training. He can assist in an emergency.”
“Are the Dremikian’s allowing the flight, sir?”
He didn’t immediately answer, choosing, instead, to watch two crewmen drag a crate out of the way. “They aren’t
not
allowing the flight.”
Shrewdly, she asked, “Do they even know?”
“I informed Vice Chancellor Hill of our plans. I trust him to relay the information through proper diplomatic channels.”
They reached the door leading out of the landing bay. Hill looked down at her and smiled to see that she had smeared the dirt on her face across her entire cheekbone. “You will take every possible precaution. No stunts and no side trips. When do you plan to depart?”
Maggie wondered what his fleeting smile had been about even while she bristled at the implication that she’d forget her mission in favor of hijinks. “1300 hours, sir. That should give me the optimum window for atmospheric entry.”
“Excellent. You and Fortunas can brief senior staff at lunch.” Before he left he dropped his voice to a near-whisper. “You had better bring Mangoda and the lander back in one piece. If you don’t, I’ll make good on my threat to send you out the air lock—without the benefit of a vehicle.” He nodded curtly to her. “Carry on, Commander.”
***
Dr. Ruger tapped her tablet against her leg while she waited, impatiently, for Ben Fortunas to emerge from the officers’ mess. Even after the thorough briefing given by the chief scientist and Commander O’Connell, Cassie had serious concerns about the impending mission.
Ben noticed his counterpart waiting for him and stifled a frustrated groan. “I do not think I can assuage your doubts any further. You will just have to accept that there are some medical unknowns regarding alien planets.” He placed his hand at the small of her back and applied gentle pressure to get Cassie moving down the corridor.
“Such uncertainties get people killed, Ben.”
“Commander O’Connell is an excellent pilot and a quick thinker. You should know by now that she will be the model of perfect landing mission technique. Pride alone will prevent her from any… harmful errors.”
Cassie snorted. “Pride will not help her if the barometric pressure causes an aneurysm. I still don’t accept that this mission is necessary, much less wise.”
“You want a new home, don’t you?”
“Yes, you know I do. But...”
“But what? We cannot eliminate the threat to Dremiks without lorga and we cannot gather enough lorga to do that without landing on Dremiks. If O’Connell can get down there, gather more specific data, and set up the collectors, we should be able to start mining in a week’s time. If we don’t destroy or move that moon, it will destroy the planet. You know all of this.” He rubbed her back gently, not even realizing what he was doing. “Sometimes what is necessary isn’t always what is safe. Margaret knows that, and she will be just fine.”
“I’m packing an extra med kit, just in case they need it.”
“I would expect nothing less, my dear.”
***
At 1300 hours, O’Connell made one last circuit around the lander. Her stride was shortened by the confines of her pressurized flight suit. Dr. Ruger insisted upon the additional protection against unknown pressure changes. With a final glide of her hand over the nose of the craft, Maggie slid inside the hatch and sealed it.
She smiled at Mangoda as she took her seat and strapped in. “Ready?” She asked.
“Yes ma’am. The pre-flight checklist is ready for your inspection.” Mangoda had more than completed basic flight training; he’d been certified as a shuttle pilot in the ISA before turning his career to medicine. He seemed perfectly at home in the co-pilot’s seat of the lander.
The commander toggled the com switch as she buckled on her helmet—the helmets were another of the doctor’s demands. “Com check. Bridge this is Lander 1 please acknowledge.”
“Roger Lander 1, this is the bridge. Your signal is five by five.”
“Roger bridge. Initiating pre-flight countdown.” O’Connell checked her fuel gauge, pressure meters, and O2 levels. Then she checked that the navigational controls responded and that she and her co-pilot were firmly strapped in. “Bridge, Lander 1. Permission to bring engines on-line”
“Lander 1, permission granted.”
Klaxons sounded in the launch bay. Maggie waited for the all clear—the ubiquitous thumbs up—from the bay team-captain indicating that all personnel had cleared the area. She turned over the engines and felt the gentle thrum of their ignition buffet the small craft.
“Lander 1, launch bay doors retracted. You are clear for departure.”
“Roger that bridge. Maneuvering power online. Bringing her about.”
“Lander 1, this is the Captain. I expect you back in good working order. Have a care down there.”
“Understood sir. We’ll be back before you’ve missed us.”
O’Connell turned the lander and used the thrusters to guide it out into the vacuum beyond the
Hudson
. They were facing away from Dremiks as they exited; only a vast expanse of stars could be seen.
“If you’re a praying man, Mangoda, now would be a good time to whisper one,” Maggie quipped.
“Lander 1,” a voice crackled over the channel. “Be advised you have an open mic.” The dry voice on the other end belonged to the captain.
O’Connell ground her teeth and heard Mangoda chuckle softly. “Lander 1 so advised. Thank you kindly, bridge.” She flipped off the com channel and banked the lander around the body of the
Hudson
. The planet came into full view before them. It was a mass of swirling blue and grey clouds. She maneuvered them into a lower orbit and watched the outboard sensors collect their initial data.
“High magnetic fluctuations,” Mangoda noted.
“Yeah, I see that. I don’t like the look of that cloud formation either.” She jabbed a finger at the screen located between the two seats. “That area there looks more promising. Let’s see what we find.”
Back on the
Hudson
, Fortunas usurped Ensign Chi’s seat on the bridge. He contemplated the data pouring back from the lander. Captain Hill was in his chair watching the large bridge monitor. Lieutenant Price sat in his co-pilot’s chair and tried not to fidget. Each of O’Connell’s flight commands relayed back to the
Hudson
. Price watched the feed and found himself trying to anticipate her next move.
O’Connell spent almost ninety minutes maneuvering the lander before she felt she’d found a good entry point into the Dremikian atmosphere. “
Hudson
this is Lander 1. Preparing to enter Dremiks atmosphere at point,” she glanced at the navigational chart and read off the coordinates.
Suddenly, the proximity alerts started shrieking their shrill warning.
“Satellite off the port wing, moving towards us at mach 5!” Mangoda shouted and turned in his seat trying to spot the object that radar had picked up.
“Shit!” O’Connell fired the thrusters and banked the lander hard to the left. Seconds later, out the port window—which was now below her given the sharp angle of the ship—she saw a metallic object whiz past.
“Lander 1 to
Hudson
. Our compliments to Honored One Dwax, if he could please advise us of any other unmarked objects buzzing about?” The commander’s voice was strained.
On the bridge of the
Hudson
, Captain Hill was already confronting Dwax in a low, cold, tone. “Get your fleet command on the line immediately. If anything else menaces my lander I am going to become
very angry
.”
Dwax certainly was not keeping track of the exact amount of time it took the fleet commander to move the satellite’s orbit, but he was fairly certain the captain did not break off his cold stare for the entirety of the delay.
“Should I expect any more monitoring devices to endanger my crew, Honored One?”
Dwax could not meet the captain’s gaze. “They say that all satellites and other devices have been moved from this orbital track.”
“That is appreciated. Thank you.”
It took another thirty minutes for O’Connell to re-position the lander for entry into the atmosphere. After receiving permission from the
Hudson
, she fired her engines full force, and the lander streaked at a sharp angle towards the surface. Almost immediately the sensors went hay-wire and the radio crackled. The ship began to rock violently, so the commander increased their angle of descent. The engines began to overheat. When O’Connell tried to level the craft out, they were suddenly met with a magnetic surge. The lander rocketed upwards.
On the bridge of the
Hudson
, Lieutenant Price involuntarily gasped as the lander seemed to shoot out of a cloud cluster.
“Lander 1 this is the Captain, advise your status.”
“Lander 1 here, sir. Skipped off the ionosphere. This isn’t as easy as it looks, sir.”
“So advised. Your window of opportunity is shrinking, Commander.”
“Acknowledged, sir. We’re making adjustments now.” Maggie switched to the internal communications channel. “What do you say, we avoid any more magnetic hot plates?”
“Works for me, ma’am.” Mangoda indicated a storm cluster south of their designated landing zone. “The magnetic fields seem strongest on the eastern sides of these storm clusters. We might do better to try entry on the southwestern sides.”
“You mean fly into what looks like the mother of all thunderstorms?”
He gave her a chagrined look. “Yes, ma’am.”
O’Connell chuckled. “Let it never be said you lack nerve. Okay Mangoda, let’s do this.” She moved the lander back into position and flipped the com switch. “
Hudson
we’re going to try this again. Expect to lose com in that storm. We’ll talk to you when we can.”
“Acknowledged lander. We’ll be here.”
Again O’Connell powered the engines to their highest setting and pointed the nose of the shuttle downward. The ride was even worse than before. The magnetic sheer was weaker, but the powerful winds buffeting the craft sent them jigging across the sky. The engines roared and red-lined as a powerful downdraft sucked them through the atmosphere.
Maggie’s stomach heaved. Her hands were white knuckled on the controls. Not, she thought, that she was the least bit in control.
“Structural integrity holding!” Mangoda had to shout over the shrieking din of the engines and winds outside.
O’Connell pulled back on the power to the engines, and the lander immediately went into a flat spin. Grunting with the effort, the commander rightened the ship only to have it shoot downward in another powerful downdraft. Both of the lander’s occupants vomited in response to the negative g’s.
And then, suddenly, the storm spit them out.
They were flying fifteen kilometers above a small rift valley. O’Connell ripped her helmet off and swiped her hand across her mouth. She swallowed twice to rinse away the taste of bile and said, “I need a nav fix, ASAP.”
Mangoda coughed, spat, and then acknowledged the order.
“Com check, com check.
Hudson
this is Lander 1, do you read?”
There was a pause before the radio crackled. “Lander 1, this is
Hudson
. Advise your condition.”
“Shaken, not stirred,
Hudson
.” Maggie delivered the witticism with a grin at her co-pilot.
There was a pause. “Repeat last, Lander 1?”
The occupants of the lander laughed. “Lander 1 advises that ship is sound and crew well. Are you reading data?”