massive explosion that signaled the end of the shuttle.
A halo of color and light, the most beautiful natural phenomenon Harvey had ever seen, bathed the lifepod in an ethereal quiet, and though the internal alarms inside the cockpit were buzzing and screaming, he felt a sense of peace. He couldn’t enjoy even a second of it. The small craft began twisting and turning. Its guidance systems were going haywire, and the screens showed red lights across the board. He was wondering if this just wasn’t his day.
“Lea!” he was on his last vestige of hope. “Lea, are you with me?”
Nothing, aside from constant electronic beeps and whistles, all getting louder, all coming at him faster and faster as the ionic stream zipped past the porthole. At least he was moving, hopefully to Earth, or, at the very least, away from the dreaded dual star system of Fomalhaut and Piscis Austrini. That was his only comfort. Alive or dead, he wanted to get as far away from Cemetery Planet as possible.
The lifepod’s flight leveled off, giving Harvey hope he’d get out of this mess in one piece. The tiny craft must have had a homing code in its programming, and was taking him to Earth, to safety, and away from that world of death.
He rode the bumpy cosmic freeway for quite some time. How long, he really didn’t know. He was tired. He was hungry. But most of all he was scared. Was this an endless trip to oblivion?
Finally, the kaleidoscopic panorama that surrounded the lifepod seemed to lift like a curtain, and that in turn lifted Harvey’s spirits. When he saw the velvety inkiness of space, he became even more hopeful for a positive outcome. Then, when he spotted a single, yellow star—the Sun—he simply felt like collapsing with joy.
He was home. The solar system that birthed him. The Sun that he’d grown up and lived under for most of his life. All of a sudden he forgot about the exocolonies. He wanted to live on Earth, no matter how crowded.
The lifepod was simple. There really was no flying involved. The autopilot and the homing mechanism did all the work, thrusting and altering trajectory, taking him toward the brightest object in the horizon aside from the Sun. A planet. Earth. Had to be. It felt so damn good to be home. He dreamed of what he would do first, lost in the rapture of knowing his life was saved, and that soon he’d be kissing the ground of his birthplace.
Another shift in course, though, brought the pod into a different field of reference, and Harvey noticed something odd about the Sun. Suddenly there were two Suns, one smaller than the other. For the first few seconds, he didn’t want to think, didn’t want to face the stark reality that had just stung him with a right cross. No way. No way was he back here. But facts were facts. This wasn’t a solitary star system. This was a binary system. And a closer inspection of the planet he was approaching told him it wasn’t a blue and beige and white marble teeming with life. It was a lonely, barren place, devoid of anything pure and good and thriving.
It was Cemetery Planet.
2.
“NO!” he ripped into the control panel, hoping to find the guidance processor. Maybe with a little fancy rewiring, he could turn this baby around. No such luck. The electrical system sparked in his face. He smelled his own burnt hair and checked to make sure he wasn’t on fire. His smoldering head, though, was the least of his concerns. With the sudden arc, the controls went dark. The thrusters were out. The computer was kaput. The lifepod was now falling like a rock. No guidance systems to take it smoothly and cleanly to the visitor station landing pad. Without that, he was in for a rough touchdown.
The lifepod rolled upside down, to the left and right. With no pitch, yaw, or roll controls, the craft was at the mercy of the planet’s gravitational pull. Harvey’s head banged hard and he saw stars. The rocking and
A halo of color and light, the most beautiful natural phenomenon Harvey had ever seen, bathed the lifepod in an ethereal quiet, and though the internal alarms inside the cockpit were buzzing and screaming, he felt a sense of peace. He couldn’t enjoy even a second of it. The small craft began twisting and turning. Its guidance systems were going haywire, and the screens showed red lights across the board. He was wondering if this just wasn’t his day.
“Lea!” he was on his last vestige of hope. “Lea, are you with me?”
Nothing, aside from constant electronic beeps and whistles, all getting louder, all coming at him faster and faster as the ionic stream zipped past the porthole. At least he was moving, hopefully to Earth, or, at the very least, away from the dreaded dual star system of Fomalhaut and Piscis Austrini. That was his only comfort. Alive or dead, he wanted to get as far away from Cemetery Planet as possible.
The lifepod’s flight leveled off, giving Harvey hope he’d get out of this mess in one piece. The tiny craft must have had a homing code in its programming, and was taking him to Earth, to safety, and away from that world of death.
He rode the bumpy cosmic freeway for quite some time. How long, he really didn’t know. He was tired. He was hungry. But most of all he was scared. Was this an endless trip to oblivion?
Finally, the kaleidoscopic panorama that surrounded the lifepod seemed to lift like a curtain, and that in turn lifted Harvey’s spirits. When he saw the velvety inkiness of space, he became even more hopeful for a positive outcome. Then, when he spotted a single, yellow star—the Sun—he simply felt like collapsing with joy.
He was home. The solar system that birthed him. The Sun that he’d grown up and lived under for most of his life. All of a sudden he forgot about the exocolonies. He wanted to live on Earth, no matter how crowded.
The lifepod was simple. There really was no flying involved. The autopilot and the homing mechanism did all the work, thrusting and altering trajectory, taking him toward the brightest object in the horizon aside from the Sun. A planet. Earth. Had to be. It felt so damn good to be home. He dreamed of what he would do first, lost in the rapture of knowing his life was saved, and that soon he’d be kissing the ground of his birthplace.
Another shift in course, though, brought the pod into a different field of reference, and Harvey noticed something odd about the Sun. Suddenly there were two Suns, one smaller than the other. For the first few seconds, he didn’t want to think, didn’t want to face the stark reality that had just stung him with a right cross. No way. No way was he back here. But facts were facts. This wasn’t a solitary star system. This was a binary system. And a closer inspection of the planet he was approaching told him it wasn’t a blue and beige and white marble teeming with life. It was a lonely, barren place, devoid of anything pure and good and thriving.
It was Cemetery Planet.
2.
“NO!” he ripped into the control panel, hoping to find the guidance processor. Maybe with a little fancy rewiring, he could turn this baby around. No such luck. The electrical system sparked in his face. He smelled his own burnt hair and checked to make sure he wasn’t on fire. His smoldering head, though, was the least of his concerns. With the sudden arc, the controls went dark. The thrusters were out. The computer was kaput. The lifepod was now falling like a rock. No guidance systems to take it smoothly and cleanly to the visitor station landing pad. Without that, he was in for a rough touchdown.
The lifepod rolled upside down, to the left and right. With no pitch, yaw, or roll controls, the craft was at the mercy of the planet’s gravitational pull. Harvey’s head banged hard and he saw stars. The rocking and
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