We Were Legends

By MF Burbaugh

Jake is a NASA pioneer pilot in a newly developed one-man explorer ship who takes to the stars to escape torment. Odds of survival are less than four in ten, and it is believed NASA pads the statistics. He is forced to crash on an unknown planet that is dying, as its star gets colder in defiance of the laws of physics. Jake begins his survival quest with a few technological items from his ship and a still-functioning computer. It gets more complex when he rescues a beautiful girl and struggles to overcome the life and death challenges of the planet's inhabitants, mega-fauna, and extreme climate. He discovers a few of Earth's ancient stories of gods and demi-gods that are embroiled in hate, vanity, and what some call magic, are more than myths. With success or failure, Jake proves that legends are made, not born.

• Language: English
• Publisher: IFWG Publishing International
• Release date: Jul 1, 2011
• ISBN: 9781925148084

Book preview

versions.

Prologue

Thirty seconds.

These disembodied words echoed in my helmet as I sat, tightly strapped down, hand poised near the big red button. I had been waiting a year for this moment.

Ten seconds—we have ignition on all boosters.

The ship started to vibrate, slowly at first, then more and more violently as the huge rocket boosters came to life. All I could see was a wall of red fire through the single forward view screen, but I had seen others launch. Huge plumes of white billow out, a mix of propellants and oxygen; then it ignites and consumes all view in a huge fireball. Yes, we’ve lost a few in the past.

Two, one, liftoff! We have liftoff of X-147 from NASA Mars Pad three at…1200hrs local, 23 January, 2237.

Then, Stage one separation complete.

Separation of stage two in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…separation. Confirm green and go? asked Ground Control.

I answered, X-147 confirms green and go.

Final separation in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…separation.

I felt the g-forces start to diminish.

Roger X-147, throttle up in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…you are go for throttle up and are on your own; God speed, son.

I pushed both throttles to full, felt the slight increase in thrust, kicked on the F/F start sequence and waited for the lights to go from red, to yellow, to green.

Grissom Base, I have throttle up and F/F sustainer green; see you when I get back.

Roger.

That would be the last human voice I heard for quite a while.

But my name’s not Roger, I told myself, and laughed as I sailed, alone, into the inky black void.

Computer, private journal; First entry; 1244hrs, 23 Jan 2237: Well, I am finally on my way. I survived launch and am in space.

I was undoing the straps, removing my suit and helmet as I spoke. I relaxed, feeling the pure exhilaration of being in space. Computer, private journal; switch to keyboard only.

I began, The following is my book, written during the expected four-point-five month journey to planet Jebedalous, the most recently discovered humanoid planet. NASA says it translates to ‘warrior born’. If I am lost and this record survives, it is intellectual property and belongs to my descendants, if any.

The Mission

All NASA ships are single-person if they are T/S (Time-Space) fold ‘jumpers’. Jumpers are necessary to get anywhere outside the solar system in the short span of a human lifetime.

Being a ‘Jumper’ pilot required:

· Being smart enough to know that, if a mission succeeded, Government got the credit, if it failed, the pilot was to blame.

· Being cynical enough to believe that what they said about the Red Button is what they meant.

· Being an orphan, a ward of the state, or a welfare brat with no known relatives.

· Being selected from a jail, prison or Military Academy looking to dump a ‘misfit’.

Your life expectancy in space is zilch. On the other hand, you did get to ‘volunteer’. Don’t get me wrong. We are not mass murderers or rapists or armed robbers, just outcasts who refuse to think inside society’s box. Sending us to space removes a social irritant while it provides some benefit to that society.

Pilots name their ships silly things like; ‘TDB’ for Too Damn Bad, ‘Dragon Slayer’, or ‘Star Chaser’. I named my ship, ‘Ro-Del’, aka Robot-Delinquent. My onboard computer plays weird games with me. The techs swore that they are only random electrons in the new systems. On the shakedown cruise, I ordered hot coffee. It gave me hot vinegar.

My name is Jake Spoonbill. I am 21, six foot two inches tall, 180 lbs., with blonde hair and blue eyes. I have been told, on occasion, that I’m handsome.

I am a year out of the Academy. I work for NASA-EB-MTA, short for the National Aeronautics and Space Administration, Extraterrestrial Branch, Military Threat Assessment.

My assignment is to find out if the newest of the three inhabited star systems possess any knowledge or developments in fission/fusion or any of the sciences that pose a military threat to Earth.

I am a spy.

My cover story is that I am a student, working with three others. We are studying the strange coincidence that these new planets are monotheistic. A ‘god’ is said to have spoken to them and given them versions of the same Ten Commandments received on Earth.

This coincidence has baffled our social scientists. Religious leaders joyously proclaimed that it proved that God made the universe and populated it with humans in his likeness. I am not sure that constitutes ‘proof,’ but their DNA is ninety-nine point nine eight percent compatible with human DNA which leaves food for thought.

We are well trained for our jobs—NASA says so. We receive three years worth of intense physical and mental training in one year. I remember the classes. Well, I remember the names of some of them anyway.

Officially, I am designated, X-147b. A Calypso class explorer ship. There are eighteen of us T/S jumpers still alive in the galaxy. Ten are my Academy classmates.

My Academy friend, Lumpy, died on his shakedown cruise. He activated the F/F reactor and his ship exploded. The biggest piece of him they found was his helmet, containing some brains and skull fragments. We buried him, encased in lead. He is radioactive for the next four-point-five million years.

NASA claims he must have failed his F/F startup sequence. You go full throttle, lift cap, push button, close cap. Just how do you fail that?

He used to call me puny. He was three inches taller than any of us, at six foot eight inches, and had a hundred pounds on me. Maybe size doesn’t count.

Almost one hundred years ago, NASA and NATO replaced the corrupt national governments of the Earth, the Moon, and Mars, acronym EMM, with their own version of corrupt government. NASA makes the laws and controls exploration of space. They maintain power through the forces of NATO.

The collapse of the nations came after unchecked government spending bankrupted the United States, and the rest of the national economies followed. This led to global rioting. It empowered a takeover by NATO, and gave birth to the EMM. The Moon is used for studies into near weightless manufacturing development. Mars has the main launch facilities since Earth wants no reactors in their atmosphere, on or off. Additionally the cost to reach space is far less in both materials and money because of the lighter gravity. Grissom Base is for the Calypso class explorers, and the other two bases, White and Chaffee, are for the interplanetary transports. I was told all three were named in honor of the first three Americans killed in the early days of space exploration. Earth was the headcheese, we all came from there and were always at the mercy of the people who held the money strings.

The system that includes planet Jebedalous is 4.37 light years from Earth. We call it Alpha Centauri B. It will take four and a half months to get there. Ro-Del specified 23 T/S jumps, mainly to get all the systems calibrated. This is all new science, and we were only given the basics of it in flight school and the Operators Manual. I reckon what you don’t know, can’t hurt you.

As the theory was explained to me, time and space fold like a piece of thin cloth, given a shove on a flat table. The folds in the cloth are not very detectable by our technology. Even if they were, they are not even or uniform. There aren’t any sections of folds that ‘touch’ in one given spot as some past theorists and sci-fi writers thought. The known no-no’s of T/S folds is never go through more than one fold at a time and insure they touch at entry. They think many universes are layered upon each other.

The entire field is ‘fluid’. Folds constantly move, getting higher or lower, very unpredictable in where and how they appear. They don’t form all their folds in the same direction, but rather in disparate ways, some straight, some curved. Ninety percent lie within ten degrees of the orientation of a galaxy’s plane.

Most folds become smaller as they approach the gravitational fields of planets or suns. They flatten out in close proximity to those fields. If you want to go that-a-way, the computer identifies the nearest fold. It calculates the space/time journey of the entire fold. It then calculates where the fold can be safely breached, the shortcut. Then you pray like hell that it doesn’t change before you arrive.

Humans cannot pilot a ship through these folds. The first ship to try was too large, had scientists and military on board. About 40 feet of the ship entered the fold, and was never seen again. Survivors heard a pop/tear sound, then nothing.

Continued testing determined that the safest size of a ship to successfully navigate a fold was 38 feet long and 28 feet wide. Following the ratios of DaVinci’s Ventruvian Man was found to be a sound idea. This dictated that, including necessary stores and equipment, the final crew size should be…one. Our ships resemble the early Space Shuttle but smaller. Two engines set high on the ass, but with no stabilizer.

These ships, well equipped for exploration of unknown planets, have a supply of survival gear and trade goods aboard, according to the manuals. The ships are incorporating new ideas ‘on the fly’.

A year ago, two test ships were sent off through the same local fold. Only one returned, and in bad shape, meaning, pilot dead. Seems computer systems tend to ‘fail’ en route for reasons unknown; even the black box was clueless.

Without the computer, you can’t ‘see’ a fold. If you lose the computer, you point your ship toward your destination and wait to die from any of various calamities. Most likely, you run out of power or go loony, or both.

NASA’s solution is called ‘redundancy’. Six self-contained, self-powered computers are onboard each ship. Four, of the latest design, are linked together. Two of the older, supposedly proven models link separately, as backup. They can be networked in series to diagnose and correct failures in real time.

We understand that our chances of completing a mission and returning are about four out of ten. It was one out of ten just a year ago. We had the honor of being the pioneers, or, as we called ourselves, crash test dummies.

Pilot training consisted of learning what to do during the up-boost from Mars. You sat atop huge, old liquid fuel rockets and, if something went wrong, you pushed one big red button. We joked that it auto-folded your pilot seat in half to make it easier to kiss your ass goodbye.

We received simulator training on landing the ships and taking off again. We are able to launch the ship from any planet with three Earth gravity or less, but it is just slow as hell, which is why we used rockets to get us on our way.

Our main thrust system is made up of two large engines, which are totally handled by the computer, except for an override that allows some manual thrust vectoring and throttle control.

My understanding of these new systems is that they have two parts:

Part one: the computer, which runs the equipment.

Part two: the human passenger. Occasionally, the computer will solicit input from the human.

I remember a little of the theory. The ship utilizes a single, large-capacitor system rather than batteries. Any form of energy could be used to charge it. Once charged, it feeds through some state-of-the-art energy to mass, thrust converters. The reactor they call an F/F sustainer, it provides power to the cap, but we are not allowed to use it until we are out of the planet’s atmosphere. I figure it means Fission/Fusion.

The sustainer provides enough power to generate reaction mass through the engines to propel the ship. We call these engines ‘wave-riders’ for gravity waves or grav-riders. NASA calls them—Engine, X-7, two each.

The faster you go at the start, the faster you get where you’re going, they claimed. If one lives long enough and takes no folds, he could get to between a quarter and a half of light speed. They have been doing tests to see how best to use planetary slingshot effects. So, as you see, we humans really are just along for the ride.

Ro-Del says we have successfully cleared Mars’ gravity fields, and the slingshot—using the red planet’s gravity well—has us up to 0.21 light speed. He has identified three folds in the direction we are headed and is processing data on each. I should be prepared for ETC or Extended Time Compression. (That simply meant that I put on a pair of plastic pants with a couple of tubes for waste removal, I get an IV in the arm and go to La-La-Land for, maybe, a couple of weeks. I am not asleep, just on a drug trip where I see some old movies played by the computer and it seems that only a few hours have passed).

The computer controls it all, and a day before entering a fold, or after two weeks, whichever is first, it brings me back, to eat packets of paste, and get some needed exercise. Then the process repeats.

Jumping across the same fold allows the computer to do calibrations and adjustments of distances toward or away from a given area of space. The generally accepted rule is that many small jumps are more acceptable than one big one. Those big fold jumps had always resulted in the loss of ships. Well, end of this session, as it’s off to La-La.

~~~

0800hrs, 3 Feb 2237

Back.

Ro-Del says the second fold is best and that we will hit it tomorrow morning. NASA is convinced that someone will have a great new idea for mankind during a jump. I suspect, as do some scientists, that what really occurs is just a conglomeration of what your many selves are thinking or seeing as you cross the jump. You have the sense that there are many of you, all seeing the same nothing.

Four hours until our first jump toward Jebedalous. Do not make the mistake of thinking that NASA has any form of ‘prime directive’ bull. They want to establish trade and barter technology or trinkets for whatever is useful to Earth. In addition, if it ever becomes possible to cross the folds with large numbers of people, they hope to dump our excess population.

~~~

0600hrs, 4 Feb 2237

Jump time…

Saw a girl in a blue dress fall into a large pool and drown at some party. I tried to save her, but we were through the fold and had survived, so I duly noted it in the official log.

Jump is actually a calibration group, all within parameters, so we shall eat, drink and be merry, then to La-La until…

~~~

0530hrs, 26 Feb 2237…

Hum…far longer than is normally permitted in La-La and it turns out I am now under the control of Ro-Del #2. When I asked what happened to #1 it said, It went out of parameters and shut down. There was a delay of several hours before #2 came on line, reasons unknown, noted in official log.

 I asked how many jumps were made. He answered, Exactly 181, counting the first group, and we are almost 250 light minutes from our original point of entry. When I asked why, #2 said, #1 shut down because it couldn’t calibrate correctly.

Trouble

1600hrs, 28 Feb 2237…

That sonofabitchin’ Robot! I was supposed to be doing Earth-normal grav cycling and weight training and that bastard thought it would be funny if I spent four hours at 1.6 gravs! I can hardly move! He claims that I programmed him, and that I should have made the correction.

~~~

0800hrs, 1 March 2237

I was informed that we would arrive at our second T/S fold in about twenty-eight hours and would I please step up my workouts to make up for goofing off after his last training cycle.

~~~

1200hrs, 3 March 2237

I modified various computer voice profiles today. I am allowed up to seven different synthesized voices, based on a few hundred famous or infamous people listed in the file.

#2 claims there is an hour delay in our jump while he makes a small readjustment between the engine systems. It gives me time to catch up on the official log work. Even in La-La land, and during all those jumps, I had several impressions I had a duty to log. I saw the girl in the blue dress again; someone saved her and she was all wet. I carried her inside and called medics. I was in the hospital; then at someone’s home; she was there. Strange, since I knew no one like her, and I wasn’t a partygoer, except for official NASA functions, which could not be avoided.

Five minutes until jump. Ro-Del says.

~~~

Date unknown, time unknown, location unknown.

#2 gone, #3 gone, #4 gone, #5 responding sluggishly. Wait, it is an older unit, so it is slower.

I tried to think. I remembered #2 saying, Jump in 2…1…now…then I saw a flash and heard a tearing noise, then nothing; blackness and the feeling that I was thrown forward and banged my head. Turns out, I did bang my head against the switch panel as my straps stretched to the limit. #5 responded that I had been unconscious and it had administered a stimulant.

When I asked what happened, it said, Unknown, analyzing data.

#5’s report is as follows:

#2 destroyed during jump, data insufficient, but overloaded inputs suspected; #3 and #4 both tried to come on line in normal order and were destroyed almost instantly. Short pause. I do not work on the same voltages or frequencies, which delayed my start. Power-up was successful. It continued, I am required to run the programming code through my converter and recompile it on storage unit #2. When complete, I can move it to the main Memory Storage to increase processing speed.

I remembered that there were three units for data storage plus the black box.

Multi-fold jump detected in data, it said with a flat, artificial voice. All major shipboard systems are in emergency restart and all F/F sustainer data and input is missing. Engines indicate RPMs decreasing. No power, and vibrations are beyond damper limits. Capacitor is 99.34% discharged. Bringing all non essential systems off line until power can be restored.

I told it to use personality three—number three was a long-dead comedian. I think I needed a bit of humor at that moment.

I asked #5 if he was trying to tell me I was screwed. His response was, If the world was in your pocket and you could take all its wealth, you’d get a penny, because it was in a global depression. That big red button? Keep it handy, you may need it yet!

I told the computer to switch to persona two, a Ground Control guy from something called Apollo. I asked #5 several questions: Can power be restored? Can enough repairs be done to continue mission? Where were we? It took about five minutes for him to answer.

 "This is Houston calling, you have a problem! I have deployed the emergency solar arrays, but we are far from any real sources of energy, other than one system 0.01 light years from our current position. The robot is assessing the damaged areas and should report in ten minutes.

"I have compared current star patterns to all known chart data and am unable to locate our present position; running analysis program to try and extrapolate, based on last known location and direction when entering the fold.

If sufficient power is available, the food, water, and air will last two years, barring breakdown of any critical subsystems.

So what happened?

Still analyzing data, information indicates that we entered a normal fold and exited, but #2’s data shows it shorted during jump. There was another fold, and in the time it took #3 to come on line, we had entered the second fold. It may not have been in contact at the base, which means it was a big one. Three shorted out; four tried to come on line and shorted as well, he said.

A little while later, Data from the robot shows that the entire back of the ship is missing, from three-fourths of the way down the engines, rearward. The F/F sustainer is gone and all vectoring tubes as well. The robot is starting repairs of exposed power systems to stop leakage.

In other words we are in a pickle, I said.

I do not think I have the correct programming to express the obvious as stated.

See? He’s playing with me again!

I told #5 to do what was needed and send me to La-La for two weeks, or until something important happened. I really don’t want to think just now. Later…

 ~~~

Date unknown, time unknown, location unknown.

I am back. #5 said it has been two full weeks and I need to work out.

I asked our status and he said, "All critical electrical systems now green but not nominal, either on mains or backups. Cap recharge at 31% and proceeding.

"Engines disassembled, repairs are being done, but impellers are out of balance.

Data analysis still proceeding on location, as of ten seconds ago, we are in excess of 30,000 light years out, without a match to charts. It appears to have been a big jump. Did I ask for a computer with a dry sense of humor?

Another week went by in repairs. Finally, #5 said we were ready for a low power test. As tests go, it was successful. The engines did turn, did not fall apart, and produced thrust, barely.

Test results showed we could come up to about one third normal RPMs before vibrations exceeded damper limits, but the result was not a third of power, more like a fifth. Cap drain without the F/F was substantial.

So, now we could move. All the vectoring ducts were gone. Lateral movement was only from the small attitude jets or adjusting the left and right engine thrusts, which takes a while to have any effect. Bottom line was, any landing attempt anywhere would be a minimum-control crash.

#5 came alive with a Houston this is Apollo Command Module calling; we have identified our current location! We have boldly gone farther than any known Earthling has gone before! He snickered at me. My damn computer snickered.

Somehow, that kind of record didn’t trip my trigger. Explain.

#5 stated the facts. I have matched the stars with the extrapolated data and have derived a match of 92% accuracy. We are almost 47.2 million light years from the first fold jump and an eighth degree deviation from this galaxy’s plane.

Forty-seven million light years? Man that was one big fold.

He continued. I have loaded all rescue information into the data pod and sent it towards the closest known inhabited star per NASA regulations. Estimated time of arrival at current speed is 8.39 Billion years, a few million either way, to allow for solar winds.

I told #5 to wake me when help arrived; I had a feeling he didn’t get the joke.

Any habitable planets within oh, two years of us?

I could hear his gears whirring (I know he doesn’t have any). I believe I’ve found a habitable planet, but large portions of its ‘north’ and ‘south’ poles are too cold to sustain human life. I can give more precise data if I launch the probe. If you wish to attempt a landing, we must start course corrections within 23 hours to achieve orbit.

Well don’t wait on me, chum, we have no place else within my sustainable lifetime, correct?

Correct, he said, and I felt attitude jets kick on, ever so slightly. I also felt the probe launch. When we sheared off the tail we had only lost some of our momentum. He would turn the ship 180 degrees to start slowing us down.

I went to La-La, since the probe’s results would not be available immediately. The Cap was only at 47% after all this time. #5 was instructed to maintain only those functions necessary for shipboard life.

Hum, I came awake to #5 hooting on a bagpipe or something. Report, I said.

Probe’s planet report is in; available orbit insertion points determined. Cap at 74%, he droned.

Planet report first, please. If it was uninhabitable, insertion points didn’t matter.

"Planet day is 22hr and 10min in rotation, a full orbit of the star is 11 months three days, Earth time.

Due to the slight elliptic orbit, the entire planet is in early ‘winter’ and even in the ‘summer’ the temperature only permits small bands of vegetation capable of sustaining agriculture. Gravity at eight tenths Earth normal at sea level, air is breathable and within two percent composition of Earth gases. There is a ten percent increase in oxygen concentration.

Any signs of life? I asked.

Yes and no. Indications show planet was warmer recently. Large areas of residual forest, far into the northern and southern regions. No signs of technology. Very possible that life has evolved, but status unknown. Temperature at logical insertion point about 0F degrees during the night and up to 33F degrees during the day. Storms like Earth’s great northerners, but in larger numbers. Probe crashed in the southern regions, presumed destroyed. End of data on file, he stated flatly.

Next? I asked.

Best odds of survival require landing in the far north region, just into the human survival zone. Chance of landing to survive without serious injury 35%, chance of landing and surviving with serious injury 70%, chance of—

Wait! I hollered, That is already more than 100%.

Each set of odds is a different spot.

So you are saying the landing spots are different depending on the odds I choose?

Yes, that is correct; each has unique landing requirements.

 How long until I need to choose? I asked.

13 days until choice must be made.

Hum, why the differences in locations? I had to ask.

"Speed at impact and altitude changes needed for course corrections. The tighter the target area, the less the odds of being within correct parameters at touchdown. The 35% location is a long, narrow pass that looks smooth, with a good downward angle, but if any large obstructions create a directional bounce, they might throw the ship into a mountain or over cliffs; thus death.

The 70% chance of injury is a large frozen crater lake near the first area, but it is too short to scuff off the speed, and g-forces at impact will be beyond non-injury parameters. Both external and internal injuries are almost a certainty, if you do not die outright.

Why not skim into one of the warm belts you mentioned? Bounce along an ocean? That seemed a more logical option.

Air density; this ship has sustained massive damage and hull integrity is minimal. Additional air density will increase the hull temperature past its failure point. Heat damage is a factor in the other landings as well, he said.

All I could think of was, Oh.

We went over every detail and I saw what he meant about the hull. From inside, the ship looked normal but the robot’s data camera showed a twist to the hull along its axis, creating a spiraling ripple from the front to the engines. There was enough pucker to create a ‘hot spot’ all along its line. This computer was a Model 77, and unlike the 81’s, could not handle more than minor damages to the vectoring ducts; we no longer had any. We could barely slow down in the atmosphere; we had to hit our point dead-on, hope the track was clear all the way, and that the engines did not tear off or melt. They would also serve as our heat shield. The snow would create ‘The Leidenfrost Effect’ for a while. (That is what causes a drop of water to dance across a hot fry pan).

I had the idea of having the robot weld itself between the engines. It could hold a large piece of hull metal patch and use it as a big rudder to assist in ‘vectoring’ thrust. At least, for as long as it stayed attached to the ship and holding the metal plate. We were up to, maybe, 52% due to my spending every moment I could running practice simulations on the attitude jets’ control, combined with engine throttles.

I decided to go for the mountain landing. We were down to one day before the attempt. It was determined that, for the last five thousand feet, the engines would be maxed out, regardless of vibration. It would help slow us down, or else they would blow and would be of no use. If they stayed together for those few additional seconds, we gained a 12% survivability advantage. I would play the odds.

The final problem was that we were landing ass first. The mass was greater in the rear, but its blunter shape and the engines mounted high would cause one of two things. Either we’d flip out of control, or it would act like a big plow—skimming snow off a large drift and throwing it out to slow us down.

We would ‘touch’ at a speed as great as 800 MPH or as low as 480 MPH. Both sounded too fast.

~~~

The robot had welded itself to the hull, right up between the engines of the ship. To ensure no damage to the hull, the welds were soft, so they would break before the hull tears.

Reentry in 1, he said, and I started feeling the buffeting and bouncing of atmosphere as the computer gave me steering orders. L and R were throttles and + or – were altitude jets. #5 could handle the axis required to keep the ship on line in reference to up and down.

+3 L10

+1

-3 L2

-2

-1 R7

R4

Robot no longer responding to voice, but input continues.

+10 R10

+2 R3

-5 L3

-3

Engines started screaming.

-0 R0

-1 R5

-10 L10

L6

-3 L9

Impact in 2

+2 R1

 +1 L0

Impact

-10 R10

L10 L10 L10 L10

A New Home

I saw and heard nothing after that. I knew I was alive, but I got no response from any system. I heard a faint crackling of cooling metal as everything came to rest.

Shutting down all power, said a voice far, far away.

The ship stopped on its left side and I guess we had tumbled a bit. The nose was down so we’d turned around as well. I hurt everywhere.

The hatch was almost overhead; I opened it with a bang, as it was too heavy to hold up. The sky above was hazy and clouded, all various shades of gray and black. There was a light breeze. I managed to climb out and saw that the ship rested against the side of a large rock, near the bottom of a valley. I could just make out the lake that #5 had mentioned, through the fog. Then it dawned on me, I was actually in the clouds.

Priorities, what to do first? I needed to right the ship or find some way to secure the hatch against the weather. The hull had all but cooled, a few pops and crackles of metal was all that was left of the thermal decline.

I went back inside and found some items I needed. A heater suit, self-contained and battery powered. My helmet clicked on, providing a neat little environment, for a while. Also a poncho/tent/windscreen made out of that new, almost indestructible light-bending material. If I wrapped myself in it and didn’t move, you would not see me unless you stepped on me.

I gathered an eternal torch, some wire ropes, a couple of small blocks and tackle, and a saw/file I’d found in the tool kit, and set out toward the lake. There were some trees along its shoreline.

I spent the next couple of hours gathering wood for a fire and headed back to the ship. I stacked the wood along the base of the craft and put up the tarp to block the wind. My idea was to start a fire and melt the snow packed up under the ship, which should allow it to rotate away from the rock face as it melted. I added the winch setup and tied it off to a rock.

Normally, I would not have bothered doing all this right away, but the rock wall covered the side of the ship where the survival gear hatches were located—the solar recharger, spare batteries for my suit and other items I would need. I went inside and grabbed the cushions off the pilot’s chair.

I shredded a cushion and lit it, built it up with some small branches and twigs, then larger ones. I soon had a decent fire going down from the ship. I used that one to set off the wood stacked under the ship’s side. After some time, the snow was actually melting into rather long streams.

I guessed that it was early afternoon and not too cold. I took up the slack on the pulley setup and kept constant pressure on it. Without warning, the whole ship rolled toward me. I backpedaled and fell. It rolled and crushed the fire under it, but the hatch was now a hair past level and the left side was free. I secured the equipment and added more wood to the auxiliary fire I had started for a little warmth, as the batteries were now down to near-zero in the suit.

After warming by the fire, I ran around to the other side, opened the hatches and grabbed the gear bags from inside the lockers. Sitting by the fire, I opened them one at a time.

They were well-organized tool sets. Everything had a pouch or Velcro fastener securing it. There was a location beacon, two flares, a water distillation set, two med kits and finally, batteries, which I inserted in the suit. Additional equipment included fishing gear, hunting snares and a 44 cal, 40 round, belt-fed, chemical-fired, selectable semi or automatic Sturnum Special machine pistol. Came with three additional belts of ammo and basic reload gear.

The great thing about the Sturnum was it could safely use almost any propellant from black powder to the latest C-8 plastics in the shell cases. The bad thing was everything was built into the huge handle; even the casings stayed inside, so it was as big as a mule and almost as heavy. In theory, it was a one-handed weapon. Being an explorer ship gave us a big edge over the non T/S transports.

The second bag contained clothing. Padded cold weather gear, thin hot weather suits, cooling packs, heat packs, and three solar panels for charging anything from my suit batteries to the ship’s Cap. There were also two chemical generators, which were new items to the NASA inventory. They provided emergency power for up to four hours each, using chemical heat to spin up a small turbine generator. It was also said that a supply of thrust energy such as a volcanic steam vent could be used to provide spin power until the fumes and acids ate it away, which could be years, or days…an untested idea.

The one item missing was a blanket. I found none, neither thermal, nor the cold weather wool. I put the cold weather gear over the heater suit, and then disconnected the batteries.

I set up a solar panel and connected it to the dead suit batteries, then hooked up the other two panels and secured them in their frames. These would track the sun’s movement, if economically feasible, and recharge the ship’s cap.

I stowed most of the gear back inside the ship. There was no power for the heaters or equipment and no way was I going to be able to build a fire inside without cutting both intake and exhaust vents. Without the robot, that was not going to happen.

My next task was to secure suitable shelter. I went down to the lake, which was walled in like a crater, as #5 had said. Because of the mists, I could not see the other side.

I started walking along the rock walls, looking for a break or crack. Part way around, there were several cracks in the wall; they all lead up and out like a series of natural trails. I followed a couple, but they continued over a rise into the clouds, so I went back. I found a small indentation, maybe four foot wide and the same deep, usable in a pinch. Not two hundred feet farther, I saw a hole, about two feet off the ground. The snow had piled drifts along the rock face. I started digging in and down and it became a sizable portal, which opened into a large, single chamber. The natural ceiling was about ten feet up and a small amount of light indicated a crack, so I had what I needed, a defensible shelter with a natural chimney, which allowed me to have a fire. The ten-foot ceiling was good and bad. It gave me space to stop smoke buildup or carbon monoxide, but the greater volume would be harder to heat.

By the time I’d transferred a few items in, set up the tarp over the front, and moved the fire to a fire ring made of loose stones, it was dark and the temperature was dropping fast. I put the one remaining cushion against a bag. That was going to be my bed for now. I loosened the winter gear but left it on, lay down on my makeshift bed, and that is, pretty much, all I remember.

~~~

I woke up cold, parts of me deadened where I had cut off circulation, parts numb from cold. The fire was almost out. I shook off sleep, worked some circulation back into my arms and legs, and started tending the fire. I could see that I was going to need wood, a lot of wood! I ate some food in pouches from the supplies and set my day’s goals: finish securing my immediate area, gather wood, check the ship, move some of its stores down here, and build a bed.

Surprisingly, the saw cut wood up to six inches in diameter with reasonable ease. It was similar to pine in hardness, but these trees had no leaves and looked like they had been dead a few years. In a few hours I had cut and secured