SAMHAIN ECHO: DAY +3
05 Nov 2020Joey_the_saint
The alarms have stopped. That's something.That was a stupid risk to take. I mean, everything out here is a risk of course -- I have a separate log just of the star systems I've jumped into that nearly killed me because the secondary was six light-seconds off the primary and when I came out of witchspace I was between them -- but this one, this was stupid. Everyone says inattention kills out here in the black. Boredom claims a lot, that's for certain. Days, weeks of quiet routine makes you sloppy. You get into a rhythm, forgetting that every time, every single time, could be the time when everything changes. And if you've gotten into a routine, not been doing proper maintenance, forgetting to synthesize replacement heat sinks, or just doom-scrolling through GalNet during a jump, that could be it. You're done. Incinerated, at best, or wrecked on a planet that -- let's be honest -- no one else is ever likely to visit again. Way out here in the black the chances of rescue are nearly zero.
What kills more than that? Overconfidence. I'm willing to bet all my scan data that I've got this are some of the most common last words spoken by explorers out here.
* * *
I'm not religious. Or superstitious. I don't believe in some higher power or that the universe is somehow sending messages or warnings. I'm just not that important. But I can't shake this feeling that I'm on track for ... something. Something I don't want. That ghost ship showing up just days before we left didn't do anything for my mental health, either.
Kev and I set out to see if there was anything we could learn that hadn't already been picked over by the Canonn Research guys. At least that was what I was saying, I think we both knew damned well that they're insanely thorough and we'd be more likely to hit on the Federal Grand Lottery than find something Canonn had missed, but it was an excuse to think about something besides planning for a change. I kitted Foxley River out with hatchbreakers, manifest scanners and countermeasures, she's never going to be a fighter but she's fast and damned hard to hit and I thought there was a chance we may need to do some running before this trip was over. He loaded up a bunch of hacking gear and we were off. Sal didn't like us running off on some whim so close to departure, but he didn't press his point. Just scowled as we left for the hangars. He wasn't on the comms when we left, but I'm sure he was standing there, glaring at the screen over Donnovan's shoulder.
The ship was eerie as hell. Silent as a tomb, it'd passed by system after system unnoticed. Two hundred years it's been going, from the sounds of it. And somehow it was going all that way and going to end its long, strange life as a trail of metal vapor in Chukchan 5-B's atmosphere. I checked the data on it, almost 3600 atmospheres at the surface, even a ship as big as the ghost wouldn't have made it more than a third of the way down, assuming it didn't just skip off or tear itself to bits.
We crawled over the wreck for a long time when we were there, scanned some logs, I tried the manifest scanner first then the hatchbreakers on the visible cargo holds, but didn't have any luck. So eventually we decided it was time for Kev to break out the hacking skills. He's good, but the locals had already booby-trapped the site. He got the information we needed but the system cops were on us almost before we'd finished collecting everything we could. They seemed to be in a pretty bad mood -- or maybe they recognized one or both of us, we're not exactly notorious but we're usually on the side of the law that pays out best, so it's possible something came up in their initial scan -- and they opened up on us both the second we were in range of their beams.
They were never a threat, but they did successfully ID us both, so I guess we won't be back in Chukchan any time soon. Sal wasn't impressed when we told him when we got back to Cape Traverse. He's been on the job less than a month already but he's started in on the "you're actions reflect on the crew of this ship, sir" with me. At least he still adds 'sir' when he's chewing me out. I feel like that's not going to last.
Kev and I sat in the mess hall for a while, each turning the data over and over, looking at it from all different angles and scouring the chatter on GalNet. Eventually we figured we had a good lead, pointing toward HIP 69200. That turned out to be correct and a terrible idea, following the trail there.
We found a crashed Sidewinder. It'd already been picked over by Canonn as well, but they'd left stuff for us at least. I kind of wish they hadn't. We found logs, most were trash but the last one, from Professor Penelope Carver, it was bad. They found something. Out there in the black, they found something. Were bringing something back. And it went very, amazingly bad. And when it was all over anyone that'd survived whatever it was ended up dying on impact, exposed to hard vacuum or eventually dying of thirst when resources ran out on this small, airless rock.
* * *
Day one of the expedition was a bit chaotic. Only a couple of other commanders had signed on, which was kind of disappointing, but also kind of nice. Smaller group means easier travelling after all. Fewer objectives to manage, less chance of conflict. Pilots Federation types can be pretty independent, after all. I definitely don't play well with others. Everyone was locked down and we started the jump sequence. I wasn't happy yet, though. I mean, I know the course, the ship business, it's Sal's job. I need to leave it to Sal. But I can't. So sitting in the mess I mentioned to the other commanders that I was working on some jump calculations. One of the guys, Frumple, misunderstood and thought I meant that we were delaying the departure. We were nearly the full jump range of the ship away, just under 500 light-years, before I noticed his Anaconda wasn't in its assigned bay.
I checked with Donnovan and he told me that Frumple had cleared the deck a few minutes before we jumped, he assumed the commander had changed his mind about joining us. I got on the priority carrier channel to him and, like I thought, we'd crossed wires and left him behind. I shouted up to Sal to abort the next jump but by then it was too late. These carrier-class jump drives reach a point where even though you haven't started the trip, it's happening no matter what you do. I got back on the channel to CMDR Frumple and gave him the news. He seemed pretty confident he could catch up at the next destination if we could hold off just a bit. I hadn't even finished with him before the comms chief -- I can't remember her name, I really should do better getting to know my people's names -- was waving frantically at me. Another commander, Commander Kori, was asking if they'd missed the boat yet. I sorted the details out with them, told them where we were and what the situation was with Frumple, and before I knew it they'd told me they'd be there by the time Frumple caught us. Then they flew into a jet-cone and we lost comms.
Confidence. Boundless confidence. That's what's common to us all. Every single one of us in the Pilot's Federation. We all look at a challenge and think I've got this and then jump head-first into it.
I had pints waiting for both of them when they caught up with us.
* * *
I told myself that was it. That was the glitch for the mission. Two left behind on day 1, we all reacted quick and everyone came out okay. But the gloom, the malaise still wouldn't leave me.
We made it to the Statue of Liberty nebula mostly on time. Sal had to recalculate one jump, the charts out here aren't the best and we're not that far out of the bubble yet, even, but we made it exactly where we said almost exactly when we'd planned. Mission stage one, a qualified success. Everyone else cleared the deck and I spent our first half day squaring everything away on the carrier. Regular maintenance was starting, Sal was prepping our plan for stage two, Venus assured me, again, a little testily, that we were exactly on track for fuel consumption.
So off I went. I was good to get back out into the black. I've been in the bubble for almost a year this time, the longest stretch for me in at least a decade. Getting back out here ... it felt like I'd been holding my breath for the last year but now I was finally free again. It was good.
I found an O class star about 350 light-years away and that was it, I was gone. Of course it'd already been discovered, this far out O class are rare and we're in a tourist stop, so of course it'd already been catalogued, but it was still worth the trip.
I started making my way back, let the computer plot a course, and fell into my old routine. Jump-honk-bring up the FSS-repeat. It was good, like stretching old muscles and being pleasantly surprised that they still perform like you remember. I don't know how long I kept that up. I zoned out. Until the berwut from the computer told me that the planned jump exceeded the available fuel. I was in a system with the primary being a brown dwarf so dim it was almost black. I looked that the HUD and yeah, the computer was right. I barely had enough left in the tank for a 10 light-year jump. Stupid. Inattention. And now I was at risk of calling the carrier and asking someone to bring out the Rose Valley and refuel me. Definitely not as catastrophic as it would've been without the carrier, but still bad. And stupid.
Fortunately for me there was an F class only about 7 light-years away, so I was saved the embarrassment of calling the carrier for help. I spent a good long time refueling and quietly berating myself for my rookie mistake. Once we were fully loaded I nudged the ship away from the star and started looking for my next destination.
Definitely this was the glitch in the mission. Except the feeling hadn't gone away yet.
* * *
I found a field of B and A class stars just about 200 light years above us, so I went that way. Most were already charted but a few weren't. Then I found it. A crazily complex system with a B class main with six brown dwarfs in orbit, four of them with rings, and an airless planet with broad, bright, icy rings less than 500 light-seconds from the primary. That's the winner, I knew I had to land. Get out, get in the SRV for a while and feel some real gravity for a while.
Approaching the planet I could tell something was off. I checked the system map and had my suspicion confirmed. Just a hair over 4.1G at the surface. I'd landed on denser, but not many. I considered what I should do. No, that's a lie. I didn't. I knew what I should do, I should wave off. Foxley had never put down on anything with a surface gravity above 2.2G before. And I hadn't made planetfall on something bigger than that in probably three years. There were just too many unknowns for an unnecessary risk.
I've got this.
She fought me the whole way down. I caught sight of a huge, black mountain range to my right as I came in but at this speed and with the angle I was taking I didn't dare try to vector toward it. Straight and slow was the way to survive this. Except, of course, there was no slow at 4.1G. Not even in a relatively light ship like Foxley. Full reverse thrust, full upward landing thrusters, hauling back on the stick has hard as I could and still we impacted the surface so hard I blacked out for a few seconds. I'm damned lucky the canopy isn't broken. When I came to there were alarms going off everywhere, the shields were completely offline and the computer was informing me about hull and landing gear damage.
It's been ... eleven? I think eleven hours now, since I got her on the ground and settled. As soon as I got her secured I did an inspection both inside and out. Herb's got a lot of work ahead of him when I finally make it back, but she'll still fly and she'll still jump, so I'm not out of luck just yet.
Except I'm not certain the thrusters will actually lift me off this rock. And I'm not sure how much the hull will take if I have to boost out of here.
And I'm not sure if the boost will even do it if I resort to that.
I've got this.
I'm going to get some more sleep, go out for a drive, then make some coffee and figure out my next move.
Maybe once I'm off this rock I'll finally be able to get rid of that feeling.
