They sat around the “conference” table: Two architects and a medical doctor. In ten minutes, the ship’s computer informed them in its benignly androgynous voice, they would come out of warp.
‘Have you ever heard him speak, I mean the pilot?’ said Josh Adams, the second Architect. A bear of a man at least ten years older than Scott.
Scott shook his head slightly, knowing his question was loaded. ‘I don’t think he is actually a pilot; he’s more like a systems monitor. But no, he’s not even used the comm.’ He looked to the doctor.
‘I enquired after his heath,’ said Dr Fredrick Lichman, ‘and he assured me he was fine.’
Josh looked at the doctor sharply. ‘So you didn’t actually check up on him?’
‘Naturally I offered to, but I accepted his refusal.’
‘Fine, so he could have keeled over or be having some kinda episode from the shock of travelling in this revolutionary way.’
‘His vital signs are constantly being monitored.’
‘Hey, I’m not trying to get at you, doc,’ assured Josh. ‘It’s just this hyper-space warp travel must be a huge deal for even a space pilot.’
‘I’m off to the observation lounge, see it stop,’ Scott announced.
‘Well at least the pilot has no control over that,’ said Josh.
The observation lounge was an all-encompassing dome. For about a minute Scott still felt a slight disorientation at being surrounded by the white lines in continuous streaks, vibrating but without the sensation of this movement, above the platform that appeared to float in space.
‘Two minutes,’ announced the computer voice, intelligent enough to know they knew what was meant.
Lichman said, ‘I’m taking my seat for this. I don’t trust the zero inertia thing.’
Scott felt his heart race at the one-minute countdown, deciding there was no point to keep standing just for the sake of some superfluous machismo, and sat in the adjacent seat. Josh followed suit. Scott then considered the release button for the restraint strap, held off pressing it, turned to Josh. Ultimately, Lichman was the only one who activated the restraints.
‘Ten seconds,’ the computer informed.
There was a jolt, not enough to fling Scott or Josh out of their seats, but sufficient for them to grip the arm rests. The stars had instantly become fixed points. Scott stood, turned round until he noticed one blueish point rapidly enlarging amongst the star-field.
‘Our holiday retreat,’ Josh announced. ‘Hope you brought enough sun-screen.’
‘Some would think you serious,’ said Dr Lichman.
‘A potential holiday retreat,’ said Scott. ‘Looks too good to be true.’ The world was becoming recognisably Earth-like.
‘What are you suggesting – that those explorer images were faked?’
Scott had been in the virtual version, had seen the pictures from the approaching probe – the images matched. ‘I guess I’m being paranoid,’ he admitted.
‘That’s to be expected,’ offered the doctor. ‘So far from home, you feel cut off from the trueness if it – a distant reality.’
‘Alternatively,’ Josh piped, ‘we’ve unwittingly become their guinea pig space men.’
‘Don’t listen to him’ said the doctor. ‘He’s winding you up.’
‘For sure. Anyway, we all accepted the risks.’
Josh did a thumbs-up sign towards Scott. ‘Pioneers man!’
Despite the artificially controlled counter-inertia, Scott was sure he could feel the deceleration force pushing him forwards. The planet was now about twice moon size from Earth, and growing at an unnervingly rapid rate.
Leaving the orbiting ship was such a regimented and precisely controlled affair, it left in Scott nothing of the emotional impact he had been expecting. Just a few steps down into what was, in a sense, a sub-orbital shuttle, and similarly with a few rows of seats and side oval windows.
The shuttle scanned the planet’s surface in search of a suitable landing spot. As he looked down at the mountainous landscape, Scott had that same feeling of anticipation he’d felt on his first and then farthest holiday – for the eight year old English boy – to the French Alps: the churning sensation in his stomach. Visualising himself on one of those mountains skiing, swishing past the pine trees with illicit exhilaration. The reality was somewhat different, of course: his parents would only allow him on the nursery slope, and even then they only allowed him to ski a few metres before bringing him to a halt. And so no skiing on this world; no rock climbing; perhaps some hill walking, but only after they’d made some formal gesture of work. Not that there’d be any footage to evince this. Nothing was to be revealed until their designs were finalised.
The terrain was becoming less mountainous; those were some decent hills towards the horizon, sharp against the azure sky. The other two were vocal in their anticipation. The lines between work and leisure were as blurred as the undulating valleys rushing beneath. The autopilot didn’t seem to bother with maintaining a comfortably safe altitude in the way a human would. Perhaps it needed to be close for a detailed scan, analysing in its electronic brain the suitability of the valleys with their lakes. He saw a four legged animal, something like a horse, munching away at the lush grass.
The complete absence of human habitation was slightly unnerving. An alien biosphere, however Earth-like in appearance, presented problems: humans were the aliens, bringing their hostile bacteria, upsetting the eco-balance. More commonly the reverse to be given any real consideration. Only in the last few decades had any effective adaptation solution been found; it meant either becoming just a bit like the host species on some microscopic level, or using isolation technologies: a less than comfortable adaptation.
He remembered pictures of a barren, post nuclear world of Earth, then the recovery when the few ‘brilliant’ scientists who remained above developed a way of neutralising the effects of radiation. Somehow they restored the world to its original state. Yet there was still the looming threat of overpopulation. How curious that one day he and his small group of colleagues would be seen as the pioneers enabling the solution to this perennial problem that, even with this and last century’s expansion to Mars, had not alleviated.
The shuttle reached a clearing, seeming to be on a direct course for a grass plain interspersed with sandstone. Josh pointed towards the verdant scene. ‘Brace yourselves, guys, it’s gotta be down there.’
The descent seemed strangely abrupt as if the pilot had suddenly intervened, pulling the shuttle down, forcing the three passengers backwards into their seats.
While the dust was still settling outside, the inevitable question arose.
Josh said, ‘Who’s it to be then?’
‘That one giant leap for mankind,’ Scott affirmed.
‘Let’s not argue. You do the honours.’
‘I’ve been thinking about it. Thinking about what happened to that guy who took the first step on Mars.’
‘He died there – with his wife. But that was the deal. They were happy, and people envied them.’
‘No, I mean the first man to return from Mars. They hounded him; he never had any peace. I wonder of he didn’t just regret it.’
‘So, what are you suggesting, Scott? That you don’t want to be the first? That I should bear the burden?’ He looked at Lichman, ‘Maybe the good doctor here should have that honour.’
‘No no,’ Lichman insisted, waving a hand dismissively. ‘That would would just be wrong.’
‘Anyone have a coin?’ Josh asked.
‘How about the pilot,’ suggested Scott. ‘That would make sense.’
‘Okay, agreed. And we’re not taking no for an answer.’
Despite their insistence the pilot refused to go first. The compromise involved them both leaping simultaneously from either edge of the shuttle’s extended platform. Scott felt the pound of the sandstone surface jar his body. Gravity was about twenty percent higher on this world. He wore a mask for the almost concordant higher CO2 atmosphere. The difference from Earth meant he would probably live without this protection for about an hour but feel okay for less than five minutes, according to the doctor; but he would be unconscious within ten minutes. The temperate warmth and the scattered cumuli made it feel benignly Earth-like. Only a matter of time, he thought; first the wealthy and adventurous. Then when words and images get back, when lives are seen to be lived as normal; viewed as just another foreign country but with elements of their home land, the second wave begins.
‘Can’t believe we’ve got it all to ourselves, eh Scott,’ said Josh in his jovial growling voice. ‘You, the artist must be feeling rather inspired right now.’
‘We’re all a bit overwhelmed,’ Dr Lichman observed. ‘After all, this is a moment in history.’
‘I must make a note of that in my Psi-diary,’ said Josh: ‘This is truly a moment in history.’ He spoke in a faux dramatic voice, like a voice-over in a film trailer.
Scott took in the sun-baked untarnished scenery. ‘I’m imagining the development possibilities, and then the over-development.’
‘Scott, if you had your way, there would just be well dispersed villages with a single tower of commerce.’
Scott turned to face Josh. ‘What are you saying: that I’m just compromising my principles so I can be here on this assignment?’
‘Hey man, we’re all doing a bit of that.’
A sound of a hatch clunking shut. The pilot dismounted the lander’s front section; Scott noticed the look of distress on the old man’s face. All three were staring at him.
‘You OK, man?’ Josh asked the pilot.
‘Yeah,’ he said, defensively, ‘I’m fine.’
‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost; wondering if you were having problems earlier – I mean with the landing.’
‘Yeah, well.’ He shifted his shoulders uncomfortably in his pocket-arrayed beige lite-jacket. ‘A few technical problems is all; nothing I couldn’t deal with.’
‘Hey, look, man,’ said Josh. ‘I’m not casting any aspersions on your piloting ability, just the curious fact that you had to do it at all.’
‘It was only a scanner malfunction. But that’s why I’m here,’ he said plainly.
Dr Lichman smiled reassuringly. ‘And how glad we are, too,’ he said with a sincerity Josh would never be likely to manage.
‘There is something else,’ the pilot admitted. ‘The local scanner’s playing up as well.’
‘Do we need a scanner from here?’ wondered Josh.
‘Really it’s only as a precaution.’
‘For what?’
‘Our safety from the local wildlife.’
Scott remembered that horse-type creature. ‘What did the explorer probe record?’
‘Erm. That’s the thing: it didn’t record anything.’ The pilot looked to his feet, probably expecting the panicked response.
‘Nothing at all?’
‘As far as I know, nothing beyond a few images from orbit and a bio-toxin scan. Nothing about complex life. At least those were the rumours.’
‘Those fucking ISA suits sitting in their corporate high tower,’ blurted Josh. ‘All about profit these days ... and their image. Sending us on this chance, speculative... How good did it look for them: civilians to a new world, while their rival astronauts are not even beyond---.’
‘Okay, we’re all a bit tense right now,’ said the doctor. ‘Things go wrong, but we do our best and cope.’
‘Yeah, you said it, doc,’ Josh said sarkily.
The pilot pulled his jacket straight. ‘We’ve got two options: set up the base here, or take it to somewhere you think will be safer.’
‘So at least the buggy still works?’ Josh asked.
‘Yeah, but it’s only designed for two if we’re carrying the base pack on it.’
‘Why not just set up here?’ suggested Scott. ‘At least we’re near the shuttle for a quick exit.’
‘That sounds sensible,’ agreed Lichman.
‘Assuming that will still take off.’
The pilot drew in breath as if he was about to say something heated, before appearing to relax.
The base-camp was a collection of carbon-fibre panels and wide hinges containing air compressors which would force it to unfold into a building about the size of a standard house, whose strength belied its five centimetre thickness.
Darkness fell. Scott stood outside feeling a flourish of exhilaration from the unfamiliar myriad constellations, and the distant shrieking of an even stranger animal. He couldn’t imagine ever being able to sleep tonight.
***