The external temperature and conductivity were at their maximum, almost half the temperature of the surface of the sun in this system. They had only passed 0.3 g, but it already felt heavy. He had spent too much time with low g-forces. He really should take a break from space travel.
"Still all right?" he asked.
"Yes, really, it's not very heavy." Good to hear.
They were about to cross the equator again, now heading north. This time there should be no energy harvesting satellite nearby. He still stared at the display. But they crossed the equator and nothing happened. He relaxed at least mentally, his body had a hard time even with the 0.72 g.
They were zooming north again, still at about 20 times the local speed of sound. But slow enough for the temperatures to drop and the plasma to fade. "Blackbeard, open the cockpit shutters."
The outside plasma was still glowing solid orange. But the brightness was fading fast and he saw them passing the terminator. In the sun, the plasma glow was faint enough to see through. Their deceleration was increasing, now that the aerodynamics had finally started to work and they were no longer falling like a meteorite.
They were still 45 km over the surface of the planet and a little too far north. However, this was all well within the inevitable error margins of inertial navigation. Now the forces were building up and adding a lateral component as they began to slow down by flying in wide turns. All as expected, and following nicely the numbers in the simulations. Still, the numbers did not prepare him for the weight. 1.4 g was on the display.
"Are you really Ok?" he shouted down, his voice strained.
"Yeah, a bit heavy but fine."
He was not that good. "Blackbeard, how are the slaves?"
"Hibernating, according to the little information I get. I am already using the excess heat to warm the cargo hold and I am constantly reporting their status to the cargo controller. I can only monitor their status and the atmosphere there."
"Blackbeard, I see." Even an AI needed an alibi.
They would decelerate like this for another 0060. He breathed heavily. Not just because of the g-forces. He had so much responsibility this time, he must not fail. And he promised himself to get fitter before his next trip.
"Marik", oh, he had almost passed out. It was only the second time the AI had used his name.
"Blackbeard, yes."
"Can you take over, please? Just for a few moments."
"Blackbeard, yes, I am ready." He gripped the controls as he had done in so many simulations in the last two days.
"Thank you. I need a quick reconfiguration before landing. Also, clear some logs regarding the guest." There was a suspiciously long pause after the 'also', but he had to concentrate on their small re-entry corridor.
"Blackbeard, ok. Just check the glide path too."
"Confirmed."
He had only been at it for less than 0010 and he was already sweating, every tiny push on the controls was immediately answered with very different forces. It took a few more attempts before the corrections were smooth again and the flight path went where it was supposed to go. He was denched in sweat from the forces and stress. But it was his job, and regardless of why the AI had chickened out, he had to deliver now.
"Marik, I am back. Shall I take control again?"
"Blackbeard, yes please."
"Confirmed."
He sat back exhausted. This had been one of the toughest times of his life. He was breathing like he had just finished a marathon.
"G-forces at peak," the AI announced.
1.57 g read the display. It felt like someone was sitting on him. High time for that one to get off. But the g forces reduced very slowly.
"Hello, Silen from Samur, can you hear us?"
"Yes, we hear you." He checked the status. "We're getting your data too. Ok, continuing data dump. Estimated time of arrival is 0019. Runway clear?"
"Yes, we are all ready and."
"Sorry, what about wind?"
"No wind was ordered for today."
This whole communication was not going according to the manual. Well, screw the manual.
"Good to hear."
"As I said, we are ready and happy to welcome the new settlers."
"Ah, yes, well, according to my status, they are still sedated. It may take some time for them to wake up. I guess it will require your code to wake them up."
"Don't worry, this is the third arrival this year. We brought you some cabbage and some thugwrath and some nice food too. I am not sure how good it will taste to you. We have not had a human visitor for some time."
"Er, I see, thank you. I, uh, have to take care of the ship now, over and out."
He ended the connection and sighed. They really were deprived of any news from the galaxy. The data dump was probably worth more to them than the slaves in the back. Imagine getting news from the outside only three times a year. This system was probably one of the most isolated places that still appeared on normal star charts.
By now, they had dropped below the 1.2 g mark and their altitude was below 10 km. The atmosphere was now dense enough to cause steady vibrations.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
"Landing in 0010," he called down.
"Still ok," she replied, more quietly this time.
"Any problems?"
"No, nothing urgent."
At any other time, he would have been worried. But now the runway appeared in the distance.
"Marik, your turn," the AI said. "I'm not good with landings."
"Blackbeard, what, yes."
"Ok, you are in control."
Damn, this AI was really weird. He did not believe a word from it. Still, he could do it, there were enough indicators to keep their glide path correct. He went through the checklist on the display to deploy the landing gear. Many small corrections now, there was indeed no wind, but they came in a little too low. The flying earlier had helped, although he did think the AI had planned like that. It looked not bad, they had enough speed and he touched down almost on the mark, just like in his best simulator run. The brakes pushed him forward into his harness, the chair no longer swivelled. He heard a loud cracking noise and swearing but kept his eyes on the runway until they stopped. It took a few moments to get out of his harness and stand in the 0.62 g that this planet provided.
He breathed deeply another five times, and he climbed down the ladder, which had been bent when Lalleli was suddenly pushed forward. She had also wrecked the table, bending the two support rods and tearing the tabletop in half. And then she had slid forward, free from the hold the table had provided. He body was heavy enough to have bent the ladder where she now lay. But there was no blood.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm sorry for destroying your living quarters."
"Not hurt?"
"No, nothing bad."
He stepped carefully over her waist to her human torso and hugged her to get her to her feet. Given her weight, a symbolic gesture. "Can you stand?"
She stood but held on with the fierceness of a survivor clinging to her rescuer. He felt his bones creaking.
* * *
"Great, you have landed. Can we open now?" came over the radio.
He climbed back into the cockpit and checked the status. "I don't think so. The temperature of the tiles is still over 800 Kelvin." The AI showed him cooling profiles. "You'll have to wait for another 0700 before I can open the bellyside cargo ramp." Which he did not even know they had, seconds ago. He had just read the AI's written suggestion. "Maybe you can tow us back to the start of the runway in the meantime?"
The other side sighed. "You're no fun. Still. Yeah, of course. Come on, boys." Now he saw that all four of them had the same body as Lalleli when they turned their backs to the screen.
"There are hooks on the rear landing gear," he read out the AI's instructions. But there was no response. Just an empty screen. They had left without disconnecting.
"Here they come." Blackbeard caught them on an outside camera. They were almost galloping down the runway. "Blackbeard, is there a screen in the mess where we can follow this as well?"
"Yes, of course."
So he went down. Lalleli was sitting where she had been before. But she had removed the broken tabletop from its supports, and in doing so she had probably also torn off the supports from the floor. All that was left was a small, twisted metal plate. She looked miserable. "I'm so sorry, I just wanted to take the top off."
"Lalleli, don't worry about the table. Have a look."
The four guys (no doubt) from the ground crew had arrived at the ship. The outside must still be very hot, because they had removed their shirts. One of them crouched down (because of the heat) and tied a rope to the left and right underwing landing gear. The other end was hooked into a harness, some wide belt they all wore above their front legs, where the human and the animal parts met. Then they worked hard, thick muscles on their four legs were swelling. The ship was heavy but it moved slowly, with only the occasional light jolt. Lalleli clearly enjoyed the show. Returning to the start of the runway under muscle power after a journey among the stars. What a contrast. What a backwater world.
When they were nearing the end of the runway where the control barrack was, they unhooked and went out of sight.
Lalelli shuddered, then turned to him. "Sorry to bother you, but I really have to go. We are no longer in space and"
"'Ok, ok. I see. Blackbeard, do we have buckets?"
"One collapsible bucket, 15 litres. Locker III, 3f."
At least, the AI was very well organised. In locker III, third rack, there was a flat piece of plastic. The sides could be rolled up into a bucket. Tiny spires folded up from the bottom held the rim up.
Lalleli looked quite frightened at the fragile thing. Understandable, after accidentally tearing off the table support. "You mean"
"Any better idea?"
She took a deep breath then looked determined at bucket. If the bucket had been alive, it would probably have collapsed under her gaze alone.
He positioned the buckets between her hind legs and then climbed up to get her privacy.
"Done," she sobbed.
She had not moved. The bucket was half full. Very carefully he lifted the heavy, smelly bucket and tried to pour it into the toilet. And then clean up the splash.
Lalleli was nicely distracted by the sight of the four who were returning to their ship. She could use some good entertainment in her confinement. They still wore no shirts, even though it was just above freezing out there.
She still could join them. But he would not recommend it, this world was too isolated, and not seeing a woman here was not a good sign either.
One of them was holding up a headset. So he climbed up into the cockpit. Their video feed was still showing the empty inside of the control hut, but there was audio. "Hello, please answer. This should work."
"Yes, I hear you."
"Great. Pretty heavy your ship. Can you open now?"
"Yes, thank you. I still need the code to change the atmosphere, then I can open."
"Here's the code," he held up a piece of plastic with some kind of 2D checkered pattern.
"So primitive," he muttered. "Blackbeard, can you read it?"
"Yes, it works, I have control now."
"Ok, the AI has the code. Should take about 0015. And they are still not awake. And I can't open the cargo hold hatch from the inside, it's not properly balanced for planetary landings." Which was true, the hatch was tilted backwards quite a bit, as was the floor and the whole ship. Without hydraulics or mechanical support, he would not be able to open it. "But I can get out through the airlock. I need a moment to change into my protective gear."
"See you then."
"Over and out."
He climbed back down the ladder, already exhausted even by the lower-than-normal gravity of this planet. He explained to Lalleli that he had to go outside to greet them and also to check on the ship, especially the heat shield. He did not add that he had no idea what to look for, other than gaping holes. And even if there were holes, he had no way of repairing them. Still, he should check for their safety, in case they would have to return to this planet in an emergency.
So, he put on a jumper and long trousers, his thickest socks, a light protective suit and a breathing apparatus. Before he could get a heat stroke, he was in the airlock and soon was climbing down the extended ladder. The ladder did not go all the way down, it ended at knee level. He would have to jump down to the planet. He hesitated. Even standing on the last step of the ladder, the natives towered over him. They were taller than Lalleli or any of the slaves in the back. "Sorry, I am Marik. I have not been on a planet for some time." His voice was very faint in the thin atmosphere, certainly not helped by the breather. Then he jumped. Not elegantly, but all seemed well. He could stand.
They smiled friendly. "Yo, you're not the first spacer to be missing planetary legs. I am Lart, in charge of the spaceport." He held out a hand almost larger than his torso.
They were monster-sized. "Yes, you are a little bigger than I expected."
"Ha, sorry, these mods were not very stable. We are second generation, our parents were no bigger than your passengers."
"Passengers? This is a cargo ship, the manifest even says slaves." He was not sure if he should upset them. But surely they knew and should know, that he knew too.
"No, contract workers, settlers, our future. They will get their plot or more, even after two years. Most of them have had a miserable life. Otherwise, they would not have signed up. And after the start, almost no one complains. Most of them are very happy to start afresh here. Come and ask them."
The group went around and trudged up the open ramp to the cargo bay.
He waited outside at the bottom of the ramp, not because he was afraid, but because there was absolutely no room left. He was useless. "I need to check the ship for damage first," he announced, just in case they were listening.