Landing – 276 days.

 

Lieutenant Kim gripped the cushioned arm rests as the klaxon blared its alarm inside the cozy cockpit. It was a minor band of asteroids, but her body clenched in fear every time. It’s okay, Lisa. The computer knows what it’s doing. Her status as pilot was more of a figurehead than anything. A full third of the armored ship was set aside for the massively redundant computer systems. She glanced at the display panel with the cargo listed on it. No new reds. The red lights displayed the passengers that hadn’t survived the journey so far. There were fifteen lights in the upper left corner that were turned off. Hers was the last. Fifteen lights representing almost nine hundred years of travel. So close I can almost feel it.

Lisa Kim felt proud of the fact that she would be the one to wake everyone up. There was less than a year before she could start the sequence and watch as a group of colonists set foot on a brand new planet. The computers had taken many readings already. It was Earth-like, with a lot more water than first expected. Even though it was almost 90% water, there was land. The planet was about four times the size of Earth, so there was plenty of space. We may have to grow gills, though.

The alarm stopped mid-blare, allowing Lisa’s hands to unclench. The padding was threadbare and worn through in places, even though each captain had tried their best to keep up on the repairs. A quick scan of the systems showed her that everything was okay. A repair bot had been sent out to a minor leak near one of the engines, but it didn’t look serious enough to worry about. Her restraints loosened, letting her know it was safe to roam about the ship again. As she stood, her wrist computer beeped at her. “Look at that,” her voice sounded strange to her as it echoed in the small space, “time to exercise.”

 

Landing – 241 days

 

Lt. Kim’s screen flashed a warning followed by a short tone in her earpiece. What do we have here? She sat forward to squint at the display. Something wrong with the forward sensor array. Her heart rate rose a few digits as the implications of not having sensors hit home. She punched in a command to pull up the nearest camera to the array. The screen flickered before switching over to the camera’s viewpoint. It took the woman a second to figure out what was wrong. Where’s the array? Did I get the wrong camera? She leaned back and spoke to the computer. “System, show me the front sensor array.” There was a delay as the command was processed.

“The front sensor array is on screen.” A mild, male voice spoke into the stale air of the ship’s cockpit. Lisa had changed it immediately after hearing the ingratiating voice Lieutenant Shepherd had picked.

“Check again, System.” There was a wobble in her voice that she didn’t like.

“The front sensor array is on screen, Lieutenant.” The voice acknowledged. Lisa tapped a key and her original display returned to the screen. She scanned the information for the warning’s timestamp.

“System, retrieve camera 627’s feed from… four minutes ago, please.” She scratched behind her ear as the computer complied with her request.

“Retrieved.”

“Display, please.” Even though Lisa was fully aware that the computer wasn’t human, she still treated it with respect. The screen flickered again, and instead of the blank expanse of gray that had previously been there, she was now staring at a large collection of equipment huddled into a collective mass stuck to the ship. Her eyebrows dipped in confusion as the feed started playing. The blue streaks of stars were visible in the background, slowly moving from right to left. There was a bright flash and the array was gone. Her finger jammed the key to pause the video. Her wrist computer gave a tiny beep as her heart rate increased again. “System, transfer this feed to the Comm Room, please.” She was already through the hatch before the computer could respond.

***

“It cannot be done, Lieutenant.” The computer calmly answered.

“Why not?” It almost came out as a pleading whine.

“The rear sensor array has a different configuration.” There was a pause before the calm voice spoke again. “They are not interchangeable.”

“Crap.” I’m headed into a new system with nothing but cameras. I may as well be flying in using the Braille method.

 

Landing – 197 days

 

Lisa raked her fingers through her greasy hair. The shower had stopped working at least two weeks ago. There was water, but she wanted to conserve it. Things were breaking down left and right. A quick glance at the display showed her the new half a dozen red lights of failed cryo chambers that had appeared soon after the shower failure.

The computer beeped softly before announcing, “No results found.”

“You’re kidding me.” Lisa’s head gently hit the padding on the chair. There was a light thunk as her skull encountered more metal than sponge. “Ouch.”

“I’m not kidding, Lieutenant.” the computer answered in its calm voice.

“I know, I know.” She crawled out of the chair, rubbing the back of her head. “Let me know if something major happens.” It was an invalid command, but she didn’t care. “I’m going to see what’s up with the food regenerator.” The journey to the galley was fraught with more pings and clicks from the walls than normal. She passed a small hand across the metal surface. “Just a few more months… please.”

As she swung into the kitchen area, she noticed the puddle growing in the corner near the sink. “NO!” she shouted to nobody in particular as she rushed to stem the leak. “I can’t lose this much water.” Her feet splashed into the frigid liquid, sending a shiver through her before she could pull her universal tool from the pocket attached to her right sleeve. Every service access on the ship was sealed by electromagnetic force, so there was no need for old-fashioned things like screwdrivers. One tool could be used to gain entrance to every part of the ship. “C’mon, c’mon.” there was a tiny ripping sound as she pulled the tool from its pocket. “Damn it!” Lisa felt the fabric flapping around where it had just torn free. Ignoring the fact that she would have to sew the pocket on again, she removed the panel that was slowly dribbling water.

“Collision on deck 29.” the computer’s voice made her jump as she inspected the internal pipe that was spraying a fine mist into her face. “Collision on deck 28.” came right after. “Collision on deck 27.” Lisa winced as the soothing voice announced another two floors before stopping.

“Anything get through?” she asked timidly, dreading the answer.

“Two leaks reported…” Lisa hated how certain commands seemed to take up every bit of processing power now. The interminable pauses made her sick to her stomach. “…both repaired.” Lieutenant Kim blew the air she’d been holding subconsciously, out. Thank goodness for the self-healing hull. The makers of this ship had done a few things right.

“Thank you, computer.” she grunted as she stood back up. “Now where was that…” she spotted the emergency supply cabinet on the other side of the galley.

“You’re welcome, Lieutenant.” the soft voice startled her. Her foot slipped as she forgot about the puddle, twisting her ankle sharply. She heard a sharp snap from her foot.

Lisa’s hand shot out to catch herself on the nearest counter to prevent from falling down. Instead of landing on the top of the hard surface, she jammed her fingers into the edge, hard. She landed on her shoulder, unable to prevent the tumble. The last thing she saw was a mangled pinky before her head hit the ground and she blacked out.

 

Landing – 94 days

 

“Three months, Sam.” Lisa said to her misshapen pinky. She wasn’t sure when or why she had named the computer system. A quick glance at the display flashing yet another dead colonist didn’t phase her. It was riddled with tiny red pixels. It was also one of the few screens that either still worked, or that she didn’t have to turn off after a minute or two of use.

“Lieutenant?” The voice of the computer jerked her into her surroundings. Lisa counted to ten under her breath. If she responded too soon, the computer was liable to reboot itself… a process that could take up to half an hour now.

“Yes, computer?” She held her breath, noticing the stale tang buried deep in her nostrils. The air scrubbers are going out again.

It was at least twenty seconds before the computer replied. “I believe we may have… have… havehavehave” *CLICK*. Lisa waited as a relay connected the computer’s train of thought over to a section of motherboard that hadn’t been burnt out or destroyed. “Have a collision on deck fifteen.”

“Thank you, computer.” She sighed as she made her next decision. “Please don’t report any more collisions.” There had been at least one or two collision warnings a day for the last week or so. Only three had been anything worth mentioning, and the self-sealing hull had handled them in seconds.

“Yes, Lieu…” the computer didn’t finish the word.

“C’mon, Sam.” Lisa peeled herself from the captain’s chair, not noticing the smell that followed. “Let’s go have some fun.” The silence of the ship was punctuated with thumps from the small woman’s clunky cast as she headed toward the nearest working elevator shaft. The doors slid open with a squeal as she approached. “You gonna work today?” She asked the dim interior of the transport. She hobbled inside and made sure the computer was set to manual before punching in the code for the floor she wanted. The first elevator to have died was still stuck between deck seven and eight. The next was probably still roaming back and forth between deck thirty two and eighteen. She had barely made it off that one without getting sliced in half. This one was still working, but if she let the computer run the show, she could end up randomly on any of the seventy two levels of the ship.

The ride down was uneventful, except for the sudden few seconds of freefall just before reaching the correct deck. At least it’s the right one this time, the Lieutenant thought to herself as she peeled her grip from the handrail inside the cabin of the lift. She waited for the doors to slide, or slam, open. When they didn’t in an appropriate amount of time, she glanced at the control panel and sighed. “Computer?” Before it could respond, the doors hissed open. Sam stepped out quickly, not too sure how the doors would behave.

“Please step away from…” The computer spoke from inside the elevator as the doors slammed shut with a loud crunch.

Lisa winced. Probably going to have to take the access ladder back.

 

***

 

Lisa trudged down the hall, half-ignoring the flickering lights as she went. “Computer?” She tried to hold back the resignation in her voice, but didn’t do very well. She had spent the last twenty minutes looking into every possible place a collision could have occurred, but couldn’t find anything. “How sure are you that something hit us?” The speakers closest to her started clicking. “Cancel that. Rhetorical question.” She sighed, tasting the metallic air on her breath. I should take another look at those scrubbers.

“Collision on deck fifteen.”

“I’m on deck fifteen.” Lisa glared at the ceiling. “I thought I also told you not to notify me of any more collisions.”

“Collision on de*click*” A small hum started emanating from the sound system.

Going to have to look into that, too. Lisa rolled her head, listening to the tiny clicks in her neck. “I hope I don’t have to shut you up. I don’t want to listen to my own thoughts.” She looked down at the rough cast on her foot before heading to the access ladder. “This is going to take a while.”

 

Landing – 16 days

 

“Two weeks. Just two weeks.” Lisa mumbled into the panel of wires and cables in front of her. She knew it was a few days longer, but by that time, it wouldn’t matter. She’d be well into the awakening process for the rest of the colonists… what was left of them. A wire sparked. “Damn!” She was running low on power in the hand tool she was using, and didn’t want to wait another two hours for it to recharge. “Stick…” the Lieutenant grunted between clenched teeth, “…together.” The tool spent the last bit of its energy, but the wires stayed together. Lisa blew a stream of air up over her face, not noticing the pungent odor coming from her mouth. “That… was close.” She could hear the machinery in the next room starting its booting process. “Two more weeks, Sam.” she yelled at the speaker in the ceiling above her. It had been almost a week since she had to turn the computer’s audio off, the only words capable from it being, ‘Collision on deck fifteen’.

Deck fifteen was perfectly fine. It was actually one of the few decks that hadn’t had some kind of machinery malfunction or hull breach on it. According to the training program in the instruction bay, she was now a Class C mechanic. Pretty good for a pilot. She thought as she looked for a pocket to jam the spent tool into. “Where to now, Sam?” It took a moment to find a working display panel to tap into the computer’s list of emergencies. She swiped away the one containing the failing electrical panel she had just fixed.”One down…” she paused to drag the sweat from her forehead with the back of her arm, “… hundreds more to go.” She scanned the list, recognizing some of the items that she just hadn’t been able to tackle yet. A new one popped up near the top, blinking a few times before sliding up another slot. Lisa blinked as it slid up again. A heat anomaly? The only sensors that are working are on the back of the ship. The entry didn’t have far to go before it was at the top of the list.

Lieutenant Kim turned from the plastic display panel and headed to the bridge. “You know, Sam,” she spoke into steadily warming air of the passageway, “I’m really getting tired of this place.”

 

***

 

“Too hot, Sam!” She knew she was complaining in vain, but it seemed to help. She had no idea what the actual temperature was, but she had rivulets of sweat pouring down her neck and soaking into her crusty uniform. The ship jerked again, making the rattling and vibrating seem smooth in comparison. Lisa’s fingers clenched around the faded fabric of the handrests. Her eyes were slammed shut, and she spoke from between teeth that were threatening to fuse together. “Too hot, and too much shaking.” There was another slam, and her backside smacked into the bare spot of metal on the seat. “Ouch!” Her eyes flicked open to glance at the console. All of the lights were still out. She noticed that the heat shields were still down over the windows, too. Thank goodness those are still working. She could see pinpricks of bright light shining through, where micrometeorites had penetrated the thick sheets of metal.

“I never thought I’d die by flying into a sun, Sam.” She blindly reached for something to wipe the sweat from her face moments before remembering she hadn’t had time, or water, to do laundry for weeks now. She let the droplets bead up until they were big enough to slide down her hot skin. “I mean, I knew it would probably be in a pilot’s seat like this one…” she patted the arm of the chair, feeling more connected to the ship than she had since she stepped foot on it so many years ago, “…but not by crashing into a star.” She didn’t know why she felt so… conversational.

The shuddering increased, turning into a series of loud bangs coming from the interior of the ship. “If I d d didn’t know an n ny bet t t ter,” Lisa’s teeth were clicking together while talking, “I’d d d s s say w we wer r re c com m ming in n for a l l and d ding.” Her eyebrows knit together in confusion as her head was pulled forward, then slammed back into the headrest again. Something crashed behind her, but she wasn’t about to turn her head to look. “C c c c come on n n.” She grunted, feeling g-forces a human body wasn’t meant to experience.

Then…

It stopped.

There were still sounds of groans and metal pinging from the forces of being crushed, then suddenly released, but the shuddering was now a minor bump every now and then. “Sam?” she waited expectantly for an answer, forgetting she had turned off the speakers. She cracked her eyes open and peered at the console, a few lights flickering to life on a couple of the panels. “Something’s different.” Her pilot’s reflexes kicked in and she flicked switches and typed some commands into the computer.

“…ON DECK FIFTEEN!!!” The voice of the computer blasted from the speakers. She quickly tapped the volume control down before it could speak again. “There is a…”

“System!” She interrupted before it could continue its tirade of deck fifteen’s nonexistent situation.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” Sam’s voice sounded calm.

“What happened to the heat?” She noticed the coolness of the air blowing across her skin and pulling it taut with goosebumps.

“The temperature is well within limits at the moment, Lieutenant.” Only a few words, and the voice was already grating on her nerves.

“I can feel that.” She took a deep breath before asking the next question. “What is the external temperature?” There was a long silence as readings were made and connections long unused made it possible for the ship to determine what was going on past the blast shield Lisa was glaring at.

“The ambient temperature is approximately minus sixty degrees celcius.”

“What!?” Lisa reached for the console. “No. Don’t answer that.” She tapped the control to lift the heat shield and waited for the safety features of the ship to determine if it was safe or not. She was in the middle of restarting the colonist count panel when the shields groaned and began to retract back into their housings. The bright white light pouring through the sudden openings made the Lieutenant slam her eyes shut once more.

“Heat shields retracting.” Sam notified her a moment later.

“Thanks for the warning.” Lisa replied sarcastically, trying to cover her eyes with a shaking hand to protect them from the light. The glare dimmed and turned into a bright blue color with streaks of white. “That’s a sky.” Her heart was racing. What is going on? “Sam…” her vocal cords seemed to lock up with emotion before she was able to swallow, “…where are we?” The response was quicker than she expected.

“We are home, Lieutenant Kim.” The computer seemed to be sure of the fact.

“But… we can’t be.” Lisa felt the tears welling up in her eyes as the ship dropped into a cloud bank and the view grayed out. Her brain wasn’t adjusting to the new reality of not actually being burned up in the explosive atmosphere of a sun. A minute later, the ship dropped out of the bottom of the cloud, showing an expanse of ocean. It was water. Lisa jumped in the chair. “Are you flying us, system?” Her stomach lurched anew as she turned more control panels on and checked the engines and flight control systems, all off.

“No, Lieutenant.” Lisa was trying her best not to be annoyed by the insistent calmness of the voice. “We are being… towed.”

Lisa unbuckled the restraints and stood, making sure not to crack her head on the low overhang above her. She crawled up onto the console and leaned in toward the thick, protective glass. She looked left and noticed the nose of what looked to be another ship. To the right, there was another, the glow of some strange area between it and hers.

“We’ve been rescued by aliens.” Lisa sat back down and looked at the panel displaying what little colonists were left. “Do we have enough people to continue?” She rubbed her upper arms, the chill of the air making her shiver. “Are they going to be nice?” The shape of the other ships looked slightly familiar. “Should I just stop this now?” She looked down at the special area of the console that would cause the ship to self-destruct. “No.” she continued to talk to herself. “I couldn’t do that.” Her eyes flicked to the view outside the windows. There was land sliding into view, a huge city lining the edge where it met the water. “Guess we’ll find out shortly, huh Sam?” She leaned her head back gently and took a long, shuddering breath before her eyes closed of their own accord, hundreds of questions running through her brain.

 

Day 276

“Hey Kim.” A chocolate brown man waved from across the expanse of light gray stone. Lisa waved back, still unaccustomed to the excessive use of people’s last names here. He trotted over, his muscular legs compensating for the extra gravity of the planet. He sat down on the other side of the little table, tapping in an order as he settled into the seat. “When are you getting out of that thing?” He nodded to her wheelchair.

“Maybe never, Devin.” She noticed his face flinch as she used his first name, reminding him of her preference.

“That’s not true.” He smiled. He was always smiling. “Doctor Grant said you walked almost a kilometer yesterday.

“Doctor Grant shares too much information.” Lisa took a deep sip of the delicious tea in her hand. “How are the others doing?”

“Better than you.” Devin reached over and grabbed the cup sitting atop the small robot that had wheeled up to the table. He slid his card in front of a sensor to pay for the drink and the robot zipped off. “They’ve done amazingly well at adjusting.” Lisa flapped a hand at him, not willing to argue the point over again.

“Why are you so interested in me?” Lisa watched him drink his meal.

“You’re so very interesting.” Devin smiled around a sip.

“You’re incorrigible.” He just shrugged.

“You’re old fashioned.” his grin widened as he saw the words have their intended effect.

“Nobody told us about you.” She pointed a finger at him accusingly.

“We lost you.” He shrugged. “Besides, in FTL travel, there’s no way to ‘find’ things” He was wasting his time, but tried to explain yet again to the woman. “You hit the button, then you’re there.” Apparently, only about ninety years after her ship had taken off, humanity had finally figured out that faster than light travel was not only possible, but could be done at a fraction of the cost and/or time ever imagined.

“It still feels like you left us.” She grumped, knowing the argument wouldn’t work against the perpetually happy man.

“You can always go back.” He pointed out. Once FTL had become a thing, Earth had turned into a tourist attraction. “I’ve heard a few of the Colonists have found a place at the Human History Archive Annex.”

She shook her head at the man, staring into her lap. “I’m a pilot, Devin.” She looked up at him. “LIke you.”

“Then be a pilot.” He finished off the drink. “Go visit other worlds.”

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

“They’re finding hundreds every year.” He tried to make the offer even more tantalizing.

“I’m not qualified to…” she began to argue, again.

“We found life.” That shut her up.

“Really?” Her eyes were boring into his, trying to pick out the information with a look.

He nodded. “Just this morning.” he tapped the button to open a hole for him to slide his cup into. “Not intelligent, but it’s only a matter of time.”

Lisa popped her cup into the disposal hole and waited for it to slide shut. “You know, I just might go out there.”

“Should I let my boss know?” His eyebrows were high on his forehead, and his grin was twice as big as normal.

Lisa thought for a second before standing against the planet’s higher gravity. “Let’s do it.” She glanced up into the bright blue sky, lifting her hand to shade her eyes. “I think it’s time I get back up there.”