There would be two ships. IHV-101 and IHV-102, the twin Interstellar Habitability Vehicles, Legacy and Admiralty. The planned ten was not going to be funded; it was agreed that 126 passengers was enough to ensure a genetically diverse and stable population, with a second vehicle existing only to increase the odds of success. Past that, no further funding was provided.
The ships carried everything the crew would need to establish a self-sustaining colony. Each ship came equipped with a pair of cargo landers; based upon atmospheric entry carriers that were used to bring material mined from asteroids to the surface. Each lander was roughly 30 by 20 by 15 meters, and completely packed solid with supplies and infrastructure. Once emptied of their contents, the metal shell would be used as an airlock and foundation for a surface habitat, with canvas inflating atop it to quadruple the usable internal space. It would be here that the crew would stay in while the biology team prepared an all-purpose vaccine to equip their immune systems with the ability to withstand the alien planet’s microbial ecosystem.
The landing vehicle for the crew would be a modified transport shuttle. A hybrid air-breathing rocket engine running off hydrolox, to ensure it could be refueled from local water, if the need arose. Two would be carried, covered in a protective film, to shield it from cosmic radiation and micrometeoroids during the journey. Also included on the ship was a set of six satellites, which were to be deployed in orbit around the destination planet, providing constant surface mapping, weather observation, and communication with the overhead ship, should it be needed.
The hardest part was not the construction of the ships– for the most part, they reused as many common designs as possible, and most of the mass material was reallocated from existing projects. The true hurdle of this project was the crew. The simple reality was we needed 504 people willing to leave their lives behind to travel to the unknown; 126 on each of the two ships, plus a backup for each one should one get sick and be unable to make the trip.The entirety of the trained astronaut corps in our space center was 217, and undoubtedly much less than that would be willing to abandon their lives, and their families, for this mission. We would have to find people outside the program, who were willing to make the trip, who were also mentally stable, and train them on space travel. That would truly be our greatest challenge.
Of the astronauts within the center, 68 volunteered, admittedly more than was expected. Since they held much greater value than volunteers outside of the vocation, it was decided that none of the career astronauts would be backup; all of them would be prime crew. If one had to be replaced, then an outsider would take their place. Every career astronaut would serve a more important role than the rest, often one of leadership; head engineers, head biologists, EVA specialists, et cetera. The rest– regular maintenance crew, payload specialists, food fabricators, where possible, would be civilians.
For many of us, the reality that we would be leaving Dayden forever was not lost on us. We would never see the people on this planet again. We all made our peace with it, in different ways. For many of us though, it was a matter of guilt, and fear. After discovering what we did, it was an easier decision.
/////
“It’s completely down? You’re sure?” I asked Hybeto. We were sitting in the galley again, as we often did to pass the time during our off periods.
“Yeah, that’s what they’re telling me. We aren’t sure why it isn’t working, but the antenna was never designed to be replaced like that. Nothing is getting in or out… I wish I could go out and look at it myself, but they only let the careers go out on EVA,” he told me, his usually chipper disposition taking the sideline for a more serious, concerned tone.
“That means…”
“That we can’t call Admiralty, yeah.”
“The ship is an exact copy, on the same flight plan. They’re not even a year behind us, they’ll be at risk just like us if we can’t contact them,” I said, the gravity of the situation fully coalescing in my mind.
“I know…” he said, rubbing his temples. “They’re completely in the dark, and who knows what they’re thinking since we went radio silent…” He sighed. “We’ll just have to keep trying. Engineering team has had me on to help come up with ideas, but right now we really just… we don’t know what to do.”
“Think there’s some other way to send a signal?” I asked.
“We considered using engine flashes to send some sort of code, but engine team vetoed that.”
“Yeah,” I responded. “As it is we really can’t afford to be using the engines unless we need to.”
“That’s what they told us. Can’t risk rapid on and off like that…”
“I’m sure you guys will think of something. They’ve got me working double making sure the remaining reactor stays stable, and training others on how to maintain it if I’m not available,” I told him. I was fairly exhausted myself, and our celebration being cut short with a catastrophe that could possibly take our lives did not help morale. “Sometimes, I really wish we could have gotten more career astronauts on board. Some of the others are… well, you know. No offense.”
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“None taken…” he sighed. “I didn’t really think I’d be on a ship like this when I was a kid, thought it was a waste of time.”
I chuckled, “Oh no, not one of those!” He chuckled back, “yeah, well, you know, I worked in water purification, and my dad was working close to the surface, with the infrastructure reconstruction efforts…” he trailed off.
“And?” I asked.
“And… I don’t really want to talk about it. Maybe another time.”
“Oh… well, alright. I won’t pry. Just didn’t take you as anti-expansionist. You seemed pretty excited for the destination.”
“No, no, its nothing like that. It’s just…” he paused.
“Don’t worry about it,” I assured him.
“That aerobrake is coming up soon,” he changed topics. “Any last words if we don’t make it?”
I snickered. Great sense of humor as always. “We’ll make it. The structure is sound, and besides, I’ll take burning up in the atmosphere over drifting through space with no hope of rescue any day. We either make it, or we die quickly. Doesn’t seem like such a terrible deal to me.”
“You always had a funny outlook on things, you know that?” Hybeto said, and paused. “Well, see you if I see you. I’m going to get some time alone, I’m just… stressed.”
“Nah, I get it. See you later.”
With that, he left.
Hybeto has always been tricky to read. He likes to tell jokes and play games, but I often cannot tell if he is genuinely just having fun, or just trying to mask himself. He joined the volunteer selection very late, just filling in a position for habitat systems engineer, and didn’t talk much about the circumstances that lead him here, only telling stories from his upbringing if it meant a funny story or addition to a lively conversation. I enjoyed his company though, there was just something about him that meshed well with my own stresses, which made me start to worry more when he wasn’t his usual cheery self.
It’ll all be better once we get there safely. It’s just the stress. His job involves keeping us alive, so it makes sense he wouldn’t want to joke around at a time like this, I remind myself.
/////
A tight cord kept my body supported and in place as I once again found myself in the claustrophobic confines of the reactor maintenance tunnel. Carefully flipping the safety override switch, the ship’s remaining three engines fired, pulling my body back towards the end of the tunnel; leaving me to feel as though I was dangling upside down by a rope. My body tensed, and I took a deep breath. I could not see what was happening outside– I was deep in the center of the ship, in a chamber that was surrounded by dense machinery and plumbing, most of which was too complex to service. The chamber was as close to the reactor as possible that was deemed safe, and even then, if something were to go wrong again, if a part of the reactor were to blow, I’d likely be the first to perish. All the more reason to make sure nothing went wrong. I studied the chamber pressure of each engine and their supporting hardware, monitoring and reporting back what was displayed.
“All engines are stable at the moment. They’re experiencing more heat than is expected for them, but they should be fine for now. Continue burning,” I said through the radio. The gravity got harsher as the ship began to graze the planet’s atmosphere, as though the deceleration of the ship had suddenly tripled. Regardless of safety, this aerobrake maneuver was very clearly working, I only wished I could have seen out the window.
I needed to constantly juggle between primary and secondary reactor coolant loops, reducing stress load on the fuel plumbing as much as possible. This went on for almost three hours; held upside down and carefully monitoring switches and displays. There was no room for error.
At last, the engines slowed down and ceased. Another hour of monitoring the reactor’s stability later, and I was finally called out of the tunnel. Being weightless again was a tremendous mercy after what had, without doubt, the single most stressful activity of my life, but I was just glad that it was over. Taking off my carabiner and harness, I exited the work area and looked toward a window; receding into the distance was Big Brown.
/////
It was finally happening, finally, our journey was coming to an end. We could see it! The photographs our ancestors' probe had sent back did not give its sight justice; the mix of blues, greens and whites glimmered so brilliantly in the alien starlight.
I wanted to cry, the 16 year journey had all been worth it, we made it here alive. The engines roared to life one final time as we passed the planet's day side, burning to circularize our trajectory into a stable, near-polar low orbit.
This is really… actually happening. I'm actually here. That's… that's ocean. I've never even imagined so much water in my life. The land below is covered in green, alien flora. The oceans are beautiful, unpolluted, there are clean white clouds swirling above, untainted by radiation.
It's… home.
We're home!
I hurried outside as soon as the engine burn was complete. Everyone was in high spirits, and cheering and laughter had become infectious. We had really made it!
Even Rhys was smiling. I don't think I'd ever seen him smile.
"Alright, alright, everyone. Take a few days to rest and get your bearings. We'll wake up the sleeping groups soon, and we can all celebrate before we head down."
I ran into Hybeto, he was in higher spirits, though still not as excited as the others.
"Has… any progress been made on communicating with Admiralty?"
He hung his head down. "No… and I don't think we'll ever be able to get it working. We're completely isolated. But, the other engineers are telling me it's not hopeless. There's a good chance that they would have performed their own investigation when they lost contact with us. They may have caught it before it became too late. And even if they didn't… we managed to find a way, so I'm sure they could too."
"Right… okay, okay… but hopefully it doesn't come to that, it would be nice if we could have SOME cargo to use."
"Agreed. We're going to leave a message behind on the ship when we vacate, so that their crew knows where to find us when they arrive."
That was a good idea. My stress somewhat relieved, I returned to the bunks, letting my mind relax, and stared out into the windows, as many others were. We had just passed one of the poles, and were entering the planet's night side.
This is… such a gorgeous planet.
Wait…
No that can't be.
Are those…
…
Are those city lights?