Down To Earth

By Iron Kilt

An anthology to benefit the Office of Letters and Light, Down To Earth Features stories by established and up and coming science fiction authors. Mankind has journeyed to the stars and now they are returning home. Clone hunters, explorers fleeing first contacts gone awry, and time travelers all seek the birthplace of their species. Can you go home again?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Iron Kilt
• Release date: Jan 30, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311885166

Iron Kilt

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Foreword

I love science fiction. I feel blessed to live in a time where there are excellent television shows, movies, and books in this massive genre everywhere I turn. Independent creators and mainstream publishers alike are creating some of the best SF in the last fifty years. This humble anthology aims to be one more example in this rich landscape. Many of these stories present mankind heading out for the stars, exploring the vast reaches of our universe. Here, I wanted stories of homecomings.

Some of these returns to our mother world are bittersweet and others are joyous. For some of these characters the big blue marble will be their salvation and for a few it will be their end. I hope that you enjoy the experience of reading about them as much as I enjoyed bring them to you.

All proceeds for this work will benefit the Office of Letters and Light, promoting literacy and encouraging writers to do that voodoo that we do so well. Please donate independently if you’re so inclined. It’s a good cause. http://lettersandlight.org/

Scott Roche

Editor and Publisher

Ganymede Can Have Them

by Anne Stringer

The landers had been out of touch for four hours, and Michaels was concerned. On the ground: Dane, Emery, and Korsikoff. One of them was supposed to check in every hour. In the orbiter: Jeffrey Michaels. The other three had teased him just before separation. All that way, and he had to remain aboard ship. They got the fun and the glory accorded space explorers. He would be the guy who flew the orbiter.

Not that he minded. Just being there was enough for him. He had a spectacular view from the orbiter. Sol was a bright star off in the distance. Jupiter loomed huge in the star-strewn blackness. When he stared at it, he felt as though he was falling in, it was so mesmerizing. The ring was clearly visible this close, and so were some of the moons. They all looked so different. Closest of all, Ganymede. He orbited Ganymede while Dane, Emery, and Korsikoff walked on its surface.

Michaels had absolutely no desire to slog around on a lifeless satellite. That seemed too much like work.

The initial communications from the surface were excited, full of the delight of discovery. They'd set down successfully in a favorable spot. The lander functioned flawlessly. They'd squeezed into view of the interior camera, all three of them, and grinned and waved at him. One of the exterior cameras captured the moment when Emery stepped onto the surface of Ganymede, the first to touch the outer solar system.

Of course, it wouldn't be a huge deal back home. The first small step, giant leap had been taken so long ago. This was just further expansion. Correction: the first step to further expansion. If it proved suitable, an outpost would be built on Ganymede, a jumping-off spot to the rest of the solar system and beyond.

This was also a test of human endurance. Could people tolerate such lengthy journeys? Michaels, Dane, Emery, and Korsikoff seemed the most likely. Physically and mentally able, that is, though such things were uncertain until put to the real test. As it turned out, the only thing that bothered Michaels was the constant company of Dane, Emery, and Korsikoff. It was a bit of a relief when the lander separated.

Even communicating from Ganymede to Earth took a long time. Michaels had sent a message when the check-in from the landers was long overdue, apprising home of the situation and requesting instructions. Now he waited for a reply.

He watched the sky and wondered what it would be like, to live in a dome on Ganymede with Jupiter looking over his shoulder like a massive, stern father. He supposed he'd get used to it, but for now it was hard not to stare.

Jupiter was so fucking BIG.

As was space. The asteroid belt was a bit of a disappointment, sparse as it was. After that, a lot of nothing until they reached Jupiter and its moons. That long emptiness was when boredom set in for Dane, Emery, and Korsikoff and they started getting on his nerves.

Michaels made adjustments, listened to the sounds the flawlessly functioning lander made in his com, and waited. He spoke to the lander, to its crew, and got nothing in return. He swung its exterior cameras around, surveying an uninteresting landscape. And he waited.

Finally, the response from Earth. They were alarmed and concerned, though they hoped by now that he had heard from the landing crew. Perhaps some erratic radiation from the planet interfered with their signal? Or their communication equipment malfunctioned?

No. And no. Michaels had thought of those things early on, and ruled them out.

Wait longer, they advised. The final decision, though, was at his discretion.

His discretion. No help at all, though he'd expected none. The fate of Dane, Emery, and Korsikoff was on him now. He listened to a Mozart concerto and waited. He swept the ground cameras again. They could be right over that rise, or down in that ridge. He studied readouts from the lander to assess its condition.

Fine, fine, and fine. Everything in working order. It just had no crew. He leaned back and dozed.

It wasn't the piano sonata in c minor that woke him, hours later. Nor was it the voices of the lander's crew. Something had changed, though, and he sat up, silenced the music, and listened.

Something was different in the transmissions from the lander. The working sounds that had become as familiar to him as his own mother's voice had changed. He ran through a check of the lander systems.

It was readying for liftoff. Urgently, he sent a voice transmission. What was going on? Why hadn't they contacted him? Why were they lifting when their ground mission had hours yet to go?

There was no response.

The ground cameras showed out-of-focus shadows moving on the Ganymede soil. He remotely had it sweep and focus, but it abruptly twisted to face directly down, and then it just as suddenly went black. He switched to other views from other cameras only to find that they, too, were transmitting nothing.

An interior view of the vessel was no more helpful. It gave him the usual view of controls and equipment. There were certain facilities within the lander that were beyond the reach of the cameras, but the rest of it he could see. Something odd was resting on one of the seats, something like a rumpled article of clothing, bright red. He tried to adjust the focus for a better look.

A shadow passed between the camera and the seat, and then the camera's lens was violently shifted upward. Then it, too, went blank. There was a faint ringing in his ears, and then the sounds stopped.

Michaels was cut off from the lander.

Shit, he said aloud.

And he waited. He worked, of course. The orbiter's equipment was able to give him a good view of the surface, but it was all the same ridges and craters he'd already seen. The lander was too small to see from orbit. Still, he swept the surface in every way he could. He transmitted updates to Earth. He ran diagnostics, checked equipment, adjusted orbit, exercised. And he waited.

After so long in relative silence, he nearly wet himself when the proximity alarm started to sound. He studied the information from every sensor he had, and then looked out into space. At last he spotted it, tumbling end-over-end toward him.

The lander.

Jesus Christ, he muttered. It looked like a tipsy five-year-old was at the controls. How the hell was he supposed to align for the docking? Once again he tried to communicate with the landing module, but wasn't surprised to get no answer. He hoped they were all right, because they were pretty damn far from help. Dane had a medical background, and had come along to assess the effects of long-term space travel on the human body and mind, but what if she was injured?

As it approached, though, the lander steadied and then came into position to dock. Michaels handled that procedure from his end, and it went as smoothly as when they had rehearsed it. Once the airlock between the orbiter and the lander was sealed and pressurized, he began to open the hatch.

But then he paused. It had to be equipment, he said finally, and released the hatch. There was a small chamber between the two vessels which he traversed in a few steps, and then hesitated again, only a second, before opening the portal to the lander.

The smell hit him first and gagged him. He looked to the seats, but they were vacant. Except for that rumpled red thing,