Zeb reached the control room and sat at the seldom used navigation center. As a science officer, it was rare for Zeb to have to use the station, most of the travel being pre-set. He knew how, of course, since he was solo and emergencies could happen, but he never in Hels expected to need to actually use the knowledge!
“How did we get off course?” he asked the AI.
“Unknown.”
“How long have we been off course?”
“Unknown.”
“Well, what do you know?” Zeb asked the AI sarcastically.
“Collision is imminent,” the computer informed him.
Frak! Zeb took a look at the monitor showing the detailed map of their location in space. It showed several planets revolving around a yellow sun. Zeb had never seen this planet cluster before.
“Where in all of the galaxy are we? And where are we about to land?”
“We are in the 7th quadrant of the Simsus System,” the AI state, which was a Hels of a long way from the civilized quadrants that Zeb was used to and a lot farther off course that Zeb would have ever dreamed they could be without realizing it sooner.
“We are about to land on the 3rd planet,” the computer continued.
“Does it have a name?”
“Unknown.” Not surprising that most of the civilized explorers and scientists had never been sent out this far. The most they knew about the area was due to long-ranged probes.
“Is it inhabited?”
“Yes. There is a multitude of life on this planet. Initial scans show breathable atmosphere and a 99.2% likelihood of sentient life-forms.”
Sentients. Merve! Zeb wasn’t a Xenologist, but he did know that most planets, especially ones so far from civilized space, were unaware of the many life-forms in the galaxy. Most did not react too well to un-planned contacts. The history of early Sixam space travel and exploration spoke often of how poorly such contacts usually went.
“Ok. So how long until we land? And will we be able to land safely?”
“19 minas until landing. 87.23% chance of safe landing.”
“Will our landing be noticed by the population?” Zeb hoped not. He hated employing disguise protocols. The varn things itched!
“72% probability of notice on current course,” the computer intoned.
Merve! “Is there any way to maneuver our descent to mitigate that notice?”
“With both the thrusters and the stabilizers damaged, our maneuverability is down 62.12%.”
“But can we manage to land in such a way as to minimize the chance of discovery?”
“Affirmative. However, landing in a location that decreases chance of discovery by 31%, also increases the probability of damage to ship and crew by 26.3%.”
Well that was just frakking wonderful. He had about a 60% chance at a safe landing. “Hels, adjust course to avoid being seen by the locals,” he instructed the computer. “We’ll just have to take our chances that we can repair the damage and make it off the planet without discovery.”
“Collision imminent. Secure all crew and cargo. Brace for impact.”
He had no cargo, minus his gear and lab equipment which should still be safely stowed in his lab, and he was the only crew aboard. Zeb went to the captain’s chair (might as well go down in comfort) and strapped himself in. He closed his eyes and tried to bring back the image and feelings from his earlier dreams.
No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t recapture that momentary bliss of his four-armed beauty and her talented fingers. As the force of the planet’s atmosphere pushed him against his seat Zeb, thankfully, passed out.
Ada
Doctor Ada Adamson ran the same sample test she’d done a million times since coming to the National Sims Institute after graduating from Foxbury Institute with a degree in Astrophysics and Geology. The tediously repetitive task was always assigned to a lab assistant–her, most often it seemed.
She had envisioned working at the Sim City Institute of Science or the FutureSims Lab in Oasis Springs She thought she’d be making breakthroughs in her field while working alongside some of the greatest minds in Sim history. Unfortunately, at this stage of her post-doc, in order to make the older, more experienced scientists take notice of her, Ada, had become the go-to person for doing the tedious, labor-intensive, and often messy work no one else wanted to do.
Any experiments she conducted at the lab were not her own. Her job was to run confirmation experiments, basically repeating someone else’s breakthroughs over and over until that person got enough data to publish their findings.
As deadly dull as the work was, Ada knew she’d have to just keep doing it until she impressed her bosses enough to be allowed to conduct small-scale experiments and studies on her own.
“Adamson!” Ada’s supervisor, Dr. Clemment, called out from across the lab.
“One second, sir!” she called, staying bent over her work. She knew Dr. Clemment would be scowling at her, but what did he want her to do? He’d scowl more if she ruined this sample! Dr. Clemment was career military. He ran the lab like a drill sergeant and expected immediate compliance from his subordinates.
When she finally was able to make her way over to her boss, his scowl was in full force as expected. “About time, Adamson,” he growled at her.
“Sorry sir,” she said, holding back the snarky response she really wanted to make. “What can I do for you, sir?” she asked instead.
“I need you to collect some samples,” the grumpy old man stated. Ada had to stifle her groan. If there was one thing she hated more than repeating someone else’s experiments over and over, it was collecting samples. At least the lab was air-conditioned. That could not be said of the area. Strangerville was a hot, desert town. The ever-present wind blew hot, gritty sand into everything, especially at the sample sites they usually sent lab assistants out to collect from.
About a a month ago, a meteor struck Cliffside Crest leaving a large scar in the land and causing quite the uproar in the small desert town.
Though this wasn’t quite the meteor crash as that which hit the town over 500 years previous, which left a huge crater just north of the main city and on which the National Sims Institute was built, it had contributed to the increased scientific and government presence in the area. It was causing quite the uproar in town. Ada shouldn’t have been surprised to be sent out to collect samples. It really had only been a matter of time.
“I need more soil and plant samples from Cliffside Crest. We need to compare the specimens to those we collected at the crater.”
Of course they did. It was all they ever did.
Resigned to a hot, sweaty afternoon and having to wash sand out of places she never expected to find it unless she’d been enjoying a beach vacation in Sulani, Ada straightened her shoulders and said, “Yes, sir!” hoping that Dr. Clement would take her ready compliance as a reason to give her a promotion and (hopefully) never send her out for samples ever again.
From A to Z 