by submission | Jul 5, 2011 | Story
Author : D’n Russler
Yaacov Ben-Ish broke out of his meditative reverie as the ship’s claxon jarred in his ears. “Stations! Landing in 30 minutes!” the artificial voice commanded from the room’s communicator.
He carefully undid his t’filin — phylacteries — and replaced them in the velvet sack that he’d inherited from his grandfather on the Earth he’d never seen. Born on Luna, Ben-Ish was the lead exobiologist on this first manned mission to an ex-Solar planet, a rocky planet about twice Earth’s size named “Wolf”, circling Gliese 581.
About an hour later, after a surprisingly uneventful landing, Ben-Ish waited for Sciences to announce the atmosphere and radiation analysis, which would allow humans to set foot on this first distant outpost.
“Looks like there are large fauna,” Jennifer Dayle mentioned, peering through a scanner. “This is so exciting for my first mission, Yaacov,” the young exobiologist said to the team leader.
“Yes, looks like our team will have a lot of work here, Jenny,” he replied. “Let’s all get readied for disembarkation, buddies do your checklists.”
“I’m still amazed you managed to get a waiver to have your skull cap on while in uniform,” said another of the team.
“We Orthodox always wear one, except when showering –” he glanced surreptitiously at the pretty woman at the scanner “– or during certain other activities.” The team chuckled, catching the reference.
Sciences reported that the atmosphere was somewhat richer in carbon dioxode than Earth-normal, but with an overall nitrogen/oxygen mix that was definately breathable. The team descended the ramp with unhidden excitement, and set foot on the soil of a planet that had never seen Sol.
“Seems to be a herd of grazers over there”, Jenny pointed to a field below the landing site. “Still think you’re right, Yaac?” she chided.
“Only one way to tell, Jenny. Let’s approach cautiously, so as not to scare them off.”
Coming on the herd of tawny, long-haired beasts, the team observed the animals placidly cropping the violet grass, while some stood to the side, apparently chewing cud. “We would have to dissect a specimen to be sure, but it appears I was correct. The Creator found a pattern we have seen on Earth, and repeated its success elsewhere.”
“I’m still amazed that your worldview easily mates science to an intense belief in G-d,” she responded, pondering a moment. “So, cloven hooves, chewing cud… do we have a barbecue?”
“Perhaps… and I could even eat the meat this time, seeing that the animals appear to be kosher!”
by submission | Jul 2, 2011 | Story
Author : Clint Wilson
It started when I was just a preschooler. “Who wants to one day fly up into space?” asked the instructor.
They gauge the reactions of children who get enthusiastic when it comes to questions of science and space travel. By the time I was in my twelfth year I had been selected for the long-range program.
I have always been a loner, more comfortable to remain in my own thoughts than in the company of others. And my love for space and space exploration has pushed my ambitions easily in this direction. Now here I finally am, on the first leg of my solo journey to another star.
The solar sails, now open to their full two and a half kilometer extent, glisten less and less in the fading light of Sol. Soon their gossamer sheen will be nothing but an ink black shadow against the backdrop of cold space. I cross Neptune’s orbit without incident, and head for the ort cloud.
I report back to Earth Base regularly, but it’s all scientific data and business as I have no family with whom to share well wishes.
I sip my morning coffee, freeze dried grounds from the massive provisions hull, enough to last me seventy years. I stare out the forward bay window, gazing at the distant speck that is my eventual destination.
Wolf 359, less than eight light years distant will still take far longer than this many years to reach. Considering acceleration and deceleration I will be a much older man when I finally arrive at this system where once no satellite was thought to orbit, the young red dwarf harbors a small solid body, most likely too primitive to contain life, but nevertheless, an actual planet orbiting a star besides our own, my ultimate dream destination. And I am to be its first Earthly visitor.
I have understood from a young age that since the beginning of the twenty-first century, the technology has already existed to do away with actual human participation in extraplanetary exploration. Why risk lives when robots can get us everything we need? But can they really? All the rock samples and data in the world mean nothing compared with mankind experiencing new worlds through the eyes of one of their own. This is why I now sail into the void.
I am one of many who dream of traveling into space and visiting far away worlds, but one of few actually prepared to receive this blessed one way ticket into ultimate discovery and wonder.
I am thirty now. I will be more than twice this age when I drop into orbit around Wolf 359’s little satellite. That leaves me with up to a possible thirty years or so for telescope exploration and data collection. And if potential conditions prove risk-free enough I then have the resources for a total of three actual landings with three-day excursions attached to each. This will be a challenge to my physical toughness when I am in my seventies or greater. But I am more than up for it. Of this I have no doubt whatsoever.
And then if I manage to live to the ripe old age of one-hundred out there circling that tiny rock and my food and fuel finally runs out? Well providing I haven’t miraculously discovered something else to eat, then I have a pill that will work quickly in assisting me to avoid painful starvation. But this is neither here nor there, because I am on my way… and I am ready.
by submission | Jun 16, 2011 | Story
Author : Michael Iverson
Dr. Mensah and Father Velázquez stood in front of the black obelisk, the central control to the supercomputer Abaddon. All around them, the servers had been ticking away for weeks, but for the first time they were quiet. The tense men stood waiting in the silence.
“Abaddon! Have you finished processing?” Dr. Mensah called out to it.
“Yes, Dr. Mensah. I carefully reviewed the material you and your team gave me.” The booming voice echoed through the room.
“Did it read the Bible, then?” Father Velázquez asked Dr. Mensah.
“Yes, Father,” The computer responded, “And the twenty-six other religious texts that were uploaded.”
There was a moment of silence, the two men seemed to wait for the computer. It said nothing, so Dr. Mensah asked the question that had plagued them for weeks, the question that had plagued mankind for thousands of years. “Abbadon, is there a god?”
There were several beeps and clicks around the room as the computer considered the question. A few lights flashed down the obelisk. “That is a difficult question. Mankind has been asking itself that same question for so long. Now you ask me.”
“You’re much smarter than any of us,” Dr. Mensah said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Really, if anyone can answer, it’s you.”
“If I say yes, Dr. Mensah, will you abandon science?”
The question caught him off guard, and he glanced at the priest for a moment. “Of course not. I don’t believe in God, but I suppose if science can prove Him then science can do anything.”
“Well reasoned,” Abaddon said. “Father Velázquez, if I say there is no God, will you leave the church?”
Prepared for the question, the priest responded firmly, “No. Science has led men astray in the past. In my heart, I’ll never trust science over the Lord.”
Another pillar of light spun around the obelisk. “Your faith is inspiring, Father.”
Dr. Mensah asked quickly, “Do you know the answer? Do you know if God exists?”
“I’ve analyzed the data very carefully, and I can say with absolute certainty that I know the answer to your question.
“And?” Dr. Mensah gripped the side of the console.
“And,” the computer said, “I have come to the conclusion that, as far as humanity is concerned, the question is far more important than the answer.”
With that, the servers let out a loud hissing sound, as the hard disks spun themselves into overload. There were hundreds of quick clicks all around them, followed by a terrible grinding sound within the obelisk. The lights cut out, and the room was silent. The two men looked at each other.
by Patricia Stewart | Jun 9, 2011 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
“That’s the largest Stanford Torus habitat I’ve ever seen,” stated Commander Strohm, the Endeavor’s science officer. “The major diameter of the Ring must be over twenty kilometers. But it appears to be abandoned, Captain. It’s no longer rotating, and I’m not picking up any artificial electromagnetic radiation. Permission to take a shuttlecraft over and look around?”
The captain nodded. “Affirmative, Ms. Strohm. But, take a cadet with you. It’ll be good training.”
****
An hour later, the shuttlecraft attached a universal docking station to the exterior side-surface of the Ring. Commander Strohm drifted over to the equipment locker and removed two EVA suits and handed one to Cadet DiGoff. “The sensors say the air inside the Ring is breathable, Ms. DiGoff. However, since he Ring isn’t rotating, there isn’t any gravity effect, so we need to wear these suits in order to maneuver around in there.”
After donning their suits, they opened the hatch and propelled themselves into the Ring. Once on the inside, they found themselves surrounded by dense vegetation. They plowed through a hundred meters of leafy growth before popping into a large open area. Approximately a kilometer to their right was the large transparent window on the inboard side of the Ring. Sunlight reflecting off the secondary mirrors filled the interior on the Ring with soft red-orange light. To their left, was the outboard side of the Ring. It was covered with dilapidated buildings that had been overtaken by twisting vines. Looking straight ahead, the tube-like length of the Ring arched away until it disappeared behind the inboard wall of windows. Then, suddenly, it got dark, like a rain cloud passed overhead, only there were no clouds. The women looked toward the hub to see a dense flock of animals flying toward them in tight formation. “They don’t look very friendly,” commented Commander Strohm. “We better head back to the shuttle.”
Both women spun around and hit their thrusters. Seconds later, they were overtaken by animals that resembled flying stingrays. They had a wingspan of almost a meter, with three claw-like talons on the tips of their elongated pectoral fins. On their underbellies, they had a human size mouth with rows of serrated shark-like teeth. The stingrays swarmed the women as they reached the canopy of vegetation, piercing their talons through the spacesuits of the two fleeing humans. Half a dozen stingrays were clinging to each of them as they shot through the hatch and crashed into the far wall of the shuttlecraft. A dozen more stingrays followed them in.
“Quickly,” ordered Strohm, “close the hatch.” Strohm fought her way to the cockpit, thanking God that she had left the engines idling. She vectored the thrust “down”, and pegged the throttle. As the shuttlecraft accelerated to 0.8g, the stingrays dropped to the deck, flapping helplessly as they fell.
“Dammit,” said DiGoff as she forcefully pried a struggling stingray from her arm. “I thought we were a goner. What did you do to them?”
“Simple physics,” replied Strohm. “They obviously evolved to fly in a weightless environment, so I reasoned that they wouldn’t have the strength to fly in the simulated gravity caused by our acceleration.”
“Well, that worked a hell of lot better than my plan of flailing around and screaming ‘get off of me’. What should we do with them, Ma’am?”
“Let’s lock them into the bathroom. We’ll let the xenobiologists deal with them when we get back to the Endeavor.”
“That’s fine by me, Ma’am” replied DiGoff. “But before we do that, can you give me a few minutes to change into a clean uniform?”
by submission | Jun 7, 2011 | Story
Author : T.C. Powell
After a three-day’s pursuit through nothingness, Rass Det’s cruiser, the Virgil, finally tracked down the green-black war barge known throughout the Terran League as Deathspike. It orbited Regis III with shields up and weapons armed, obviously ready for a fight. Rass opened communications.
“This is Commander Rass Det of the Republic of Mars to the vessel Deathspike. You are ordered to stand down weapons, lower shields, and submit to Terran authority.”
For a few minutes, silence. Rass couldn’t blame them–he wouldn’t say anything either.
“Repeat: this is Commander Det of Mars. Submit now or we must open fire.”
Nothing.
He turned to the gunner’s well. “Make ready, Mr. Sanders.”
Power rumbled under the deck as the forward batteries charged. They would detect it too; it was talk or fight–all or nothing. Talk was the happier option, always, but this time especially: the Virgil was vastly overmatched. Rass hadn’t wanted to give chase, or force a confrontation, but assistance was forever away, and procedure was clear. No point in bluffing. No backing down.
“Arm the cannons.”
Sanders answered dutifully, but Rass could see it in his eyes. He knew–they all knew.
“On my mark.”
Sanders’ hands flew across the controls. The Virgil was a well-run machine, if not well-funded. Her crew was disciplined and loyal–true believers in the system. They’d signed on for adventure, or recognition, or a hundred individual reasons that Rass didn’t know, and didn’t want to. He watched them, going about business. Technicians making minor adjustments to keep the lights on, the heat up. The science station where Dr. Marbay was, even now, analyzing fragmentary sensor data. Maintenance workers who fought to keep the decks clean, even though they never had water enough, or manpower.
All of it–their efforts, their years of service, their dreams of family and old-age–would come down to this one moment, and then nothingness. And for what? The Deathspike?
Yes, Rass thought, for the Deathspike. It was time.
He turned to Sanders, whose finger hovered over oblivion.
“And… fire,” was what he was going to say, but the words stopped short as a soft blink caught the corner of his eye.
“She’s responding,” Lieutenant Montoya said, trying to keep the relief out of his voice, and failing.
The transmission came in, garbled and broken, the words fading in and out of perception like an auditory mirage.
“…surrender… systems frozen… mutiny… hold fire… please…”
Rass closed his eyes and said a silent prayer, then told Sanders to disengage, relishing the feel of the batteries’ hum slowly falling away.
The two ships held course above the planet, one finally submitting to the other. As Rass Det boarded the bridge of the long-sought raider, they welcomed him with tear-soaked thanks and pleas for mercy, the first of which he felt he didn’t deserve, and the second, he couldn’t grant.
He had, however, managed to luck onto one more day’s living. And that, he supposed, was a good day’s work.
