I Survived The Planet Of Death
02 Sep 2018Scubadog
Now, you'd think that anyone who's lived around Colonia for over a year and a half might have heard of the Planet of Death (registry SPOIHAAE XE-X D2-9 A 1). But not this guy. I was I overheard a conversation between a couple of my fellow Silverbacks saying that the planet had sent a couple of our happy bunch of apes to the rebuy. Well, that sounded like a challenge to me, and with the system being barely over Z minus 600ly from the galactic plane from Ratraii, I set about tweaking my Krait for the trip.
As a side note, I really just hate the Krait. I'd done some engineering on it and it still just makes me angry every time I behind the controls. I wanted to like it. But I engineered it almost identically to my Python, and the Python was just better. I don't get it. But as much as I've put into it, it would not have hurt my feelings if the Krait burned up in this attempt.
Anyway, for the few out there in the universe who are like me and had no clue about the Planet of Death, it orbits it's white dwarf primary star in a pretty dramatic elliptical. The perigee of its orbit brings it WELL within the exclusion zone of the dwarf--you know, that point where your FSD is unceremoniously shut down, leaving you hoping you don't burn up before the FSD cools down and you can bolt out there. Oh, and the planet also sails right through both cones from the dwarf. So there's that. Your mild-mannered ship will likely melt before your beedies as you sit in your SRV which, for reasons nobody seems to be able to explain, is impervious to practically kissing the surface of the dwarf star during your 88 minute ride on planet's orbit. There is a very small window, maybe 10 minutes, between when the planet passes out of the exclusion zone but is not being smacked around by the cone from the dwarf. And if you sit far enough away at about a 30-45 degree angle above or below the orbit, you can literally watch the planet orbit and figure the timing that works for you.
So, there I was, watching the show, contemplating just how stupid this was going to end. After a bit (I had almost an hour and a half to consider this) I figured it could go one of three ways. I'd successfully land, get a vid of the cycle, successfully take off and share drinks with any poor soul willing to hear the tale. Or, I could land successfully, get my selfie, and take off successfully only to find a few months later that I'm growing another appendage. Or, finally, either landing or take off would end in a spectacular display of melted metal with the slightest hint of Ode De Cretin Charbon, and I'd check that off my list of Things To Never Try Again. All told, I had a 66 percent chance of a reasonably acceptable outcome.
While I was gathering my gonads for the run, I realized the window of opportunity had already opened and I had to get on the good foot. Approaching the 'Planet of Death' proved to be less straightforward than you'd think. It was as if the planet was pushing me away, daring me to land. I course-corrected, goosing my engines to counteract the effect. I made my way through the orbital plane and into the glide. Since my timing for approach was a bit late, and the effect from the cone was already being felt, I had a very small windows to find a landing spot, deploy the SRV and dismiss The Vixen to the relative safety of space. And imagine my surprise that I found a landing spot almost immediately. That almost never happens. Touchdown, a very quick slide into the SRV, bounce to the surface and sending the ship off on its merry.
The surface of SPOIHAAEE A-1 is no more or less remarkable than any other lifeless body...well, to be honest, it's probably on the less-than end of the spectrum. I had about an hour an twenty minutes to burn. Of course, I picked up some souvenir materials while I waited for The Event. Most of the time spent was simply guessing what the best seat in the house might be. One of the reasons I enjoy exploring so much is for the view. This is why an SRV is a must for me when I'm exploring--views from space are fantastic, but the vista you get against an alien terrain is often breathtaking. I keep forgetting how gorgeous things look when you venture way above or below the galactic plane.
It was almost time for the primary to make its appearance, and the blue glow from one of the dwarf's cones was now visible. As if time accelerated, the dwarf rose in front of me. I couldn't help but inhale sharply. I do believe this is the only way you can get this close to a white dwarf and live to tell about it.
Speaking of that, I still needed to get to the "living to tell the tale" part of this trip. If I calculated correctly, I should be able recall my ship safely. If not, it could be destroyed before ever making it to the surface. Or, it might make it, but upon breaking orbit I could either be violently tossed into the exclusion zone or simply end up there anyway because I left too soon. I couldn't afford to be early or late. Either way meant I was barbeque. I called for the ship. Eden, it's up to you at this point. It seemed like forever waiting to see if The Vixen would show up on my radar. As she finally began her descent I high-tailed it to the ship and boarded.
Now, the hard part. Escaping. As soon as I pushed into supercruise and saw the temps climbing, all I could think was, "uh-oh". As my ship began crying out in pain, I went nearly into a full panic trying to deploy a heat sink. But nothing seemed to respond. I dropped out of supercruise to get a brief drop in temps and successfully deployed a heat sink, but also somehow managed to extend landing gear. Once I realized that, I yanked them back up and engaged supercruise again. Immediately the ship began howling and popping again, as temps roared well above 100%. Modules were taking on damage, and I still couldn't get free of this bastard. I was in a fight for my life. Then things began to go right. I was finally gaining enough velocity break free from the planet and the dwarf's clutches, and temps slowly began to drop. The ship inexplicably began to shudder hard, as if the planet was making one last desperate attempt to claim me as another victim. Then came that glorious sound of the engines spinning up as the hold on them was finally broken. As I put more space between me and the devil, I quickly surveyed the damage, surprised to see it wasn't as bad as I'd assumed. Satisfied I wasn't going to die today, I wheeled around and took on last look at what I'd just survived.
Not this ape. Not today.