Resurrection by Arwen Elys Dayton Page A

being friends as two men in their relative positions could be.
    “Oh, that’s very good tea, Captain,” the Mechanic said, leaning back in his chair and smiling as he sipped the hot, sweet liquid.
    The Captain had brewed the drink himself. Making the perfect pot of tea was one of his special talents, something he never relegated to an assistant, and the Mechanic’s compliment pleased him.
    “Tell me about the crew, Mechanic,” the Captain said after he had breathed in the aroma of the tea and taken several sips from his own cup. “What’s the general tone as we approach deceleration?”
    “Good, I think, Captain. There is nervousness, of course, for who really knows what it will be like when we land? But they will follow your lead. They look to you to learn what their own reactions should be. They trust you.”
    “Good, because I’m nothing but excited.”
    “Then they’ll be excited,” the Mechanic said. “Especially when these damned checklists are done and we are allowed to get on with our jobs.”
    “I heard you had a bit of an incident with the Engineer.”
    “We’re all chafing a bit under his minute examinations, Captain. What can you expect?”
    “Was there some problem with your station?”
    “No, no. Everything’s in working order. But the Engineer has to find something he can order to be fixed. Otherwise, he wouldn’t feel it was his mission.”
    The Captain smiled slightly at this. It was true, the Engineer had a proprietary—some might even say arrogant—attitude toward both the ship and the mission. “At any rate, the inspections will be done soon.”
    “May the mother be blessed for that,” the Mechanic said, raising his glass and downing the remainder of his tea.
    “Until then, you should be more careful.”
     
     
    “Atmosphere entry in five minutes, twenty-four seconds,” the Engineer called out to the bridge at large. “Captain, I am taking the pilot chair.”
    “Yes,” the Captain said, watching the projections in front of him on a foldout screen. He could see their approach line through Earth’s atmosphere.
    The Engineer slipped into the low booth positioned at the front end of the Champion ’s bridge. The booth had sat unused, except for weekly inspections, since initial take off months earlier. Inside was a chair and an array of controls that differed from others in the surrounding room. This was the chair for piloting the ship through atmosphere.
    They had made the shift back into sub–light speeds without incident. For the past two weeks they had been decelerating as they neared their target. They had now been circling Earth for a full day and had chosen their landing site, within easy reach of the first civilization they would study. There was nothing left to do but land.
    The Engineer strapped himself into the chair and slid his arms into the control mechanisms, which wrapped around his forearms and had levers for each of his fingers.
    “Atmosphere shields, Engineer,” the Captain said.
    “Yes, sir.” The Engineer’s left arm moved, sliding the shield lock into place. There was a faint vibration as the shields closed over the entire front portion of the ship, making it aerodynamic for its descent to the planet below.
    In a moment, the whole ship began to vibrate. It was a shock after months of perfectly smooth motion, but the crew was prepared; on the bridge and throughout they were strapped into landing chairs.
    The Engineer’s fingers and arms were manipulating the controls, guiding the ship through the window he saw projected before him, guiding it to a safe trajectory through the upper layers of atmosphere and then onto a dwindling heading that would take them to their target landing area.
    “Stratosphere cleared,” the Engineer said softly, his quiet voice being carried directly to the Captain’s ear, just as the Captain’s was to his.
    “Stratosphere cleared,” the Captain repeated.
    The shaking abated as the ship adjusted to its new medium and