Crash Course

by Grazia Armonico

It was Greg's fault. It was always Greg's fault. He had a knack for getting himself into trouble and I should have known better than to listen to him, but the idea sounded good at first. Though, come to think of it, it always sounded good. As a shuttle piloting team, we often went to extremes to make a buck, but leave it to him to come up with a ludicrous idea in the garb of a brilliant one. This one was the worst, but at the moment I was blissfully unaware of that fact.

I let the air pass quietly through my lips as I sauntered out of the cabin and into the engine compartment. I was bored stiff, as long as we had been traveling. Stiff is a good word. I felt it in my legs, back, arms, hands, feet... even the tip of my nose needed some stimulation and a change of scenery. It was difficult to exercise on a shuttle this small. I flexed my fingers and began checking over the shuttle's systems, making sure everything was working as it should be. I did that a couple of times a day. Partly because it was a good idea, and partly because I had nothing else to do. I was grateful for a task to break up the otherwise painfully monotonous journey through hyperspace. And it had to be done anyway. I never left those systems alone for long, even when the journey wasn't monotonous. Most technicians don't worry about it. They trust the computer to warn them when a system needs attention, but I never trusted computers. Not to say that they weren't valuable, and, in fact, impossible to live without; the inner workings of a shuttle's systems were far too complicated and delicate to be controlled by human minds alone, but computers were not infallible, so I watched them like a hawk and double checked them at every turn. Greg said I was paranoid, and perhaps I was, but we flew the one of the smoothest rides around because of it.

Each system checked out fine as I knew they would. I had only looked at them twelve hours before. Our energy reserves were too low for my liking, but after several days of not having the opportunity to charge, I wasn't surprised. Not to worry... we would be able to drop into normal space before much longer. I walked about in the small room checking everything over a second time to be sure I hadn't missed anything. Then I rubbed my hands together and moved on.

I saved the hyperspace system for last. I liked to give it plenty of time, because it was one of the most important systems onboard. I touched the display and pulled up the readings. Statistics scrolled down the screen in black characters on a glaring yellow background. I sometimes wondered if they made it display that way in order to keep people like me awake while reading it. That was only with the default settings - I could have changed it, but I had never been so inclined. I watched the readings for a few moments to make sure the power fluctuations were within parameters and listened carefully to its low, cyclic hum to make sure it was tuned appropriately. I smiled and ran my hand over it with satisfaction. That drive was as smooth running as any I had ever seen, and I strove to keep it that way.

I returned to the cabin and paused when I saw Greg. His head was back against the seat, his mouth was open, his arms were folded comfortably on his powerful chest, and loud, obnoxious snores were emanating from his throat. Irritation nagged me, and it wasn't because of the snores. It was the fact that he was sleeping at all. He was a good pilot - the best, if I do say so myself - but put him at the controls on auto-pilot and he thinks he can just let the computer manage everything. Technically the computer could manage everything, but it isn't a good idea to trust it so implicitly. I had told him countless times to watch the display as though his life depended on it, but he never listened. He had the average shuttle pilot mentality - why bother to use your brain when the computer is already handling matters?

I tapped my foot irritably on the ground. Annoyance turned to frustration, frustration to anger, and almost before I even knew what I was doing I ran and attacked him, knocking him off his seat and tumbling over after him. As many times as I had told him to stay alert, it was very gratifying to tackle him like that, but even as I did it, I knew it was a bad move. He had hand-to-hand martial arts training, and I, well, didn't. I knew how to fence, but that was more a dance style than it was an effective defense mechanism, and it didn't help in a fist fight. Plus, I was lean and not overly muscular, and he didn't have any such problems.

We collapsed into a squirming pile of arms and legs and teeth. Ok, not teeth... There might have been teeth if I had had the chance to use them, but before I could, he came to and said, "Hey, man, get off me!" Then with one move he twisted out from under me and had my arm locked behind me before I could blink. A jolt of pain shot through my shoulder, but what's the point of a hold like that if it doesn't immobilize your attacker? He was being gentle - he could have easily broken it.

I froze to avoid any more shock to my torqued arm, and waited for him to release me, but he held on, his fingers digging deep into the muscle of my forearm and elbow. Oh, hell, he was still half asleep! This had definitely been a stupid move, but I knew it was before I did it. "Uncle," I growled, to remind him that he was still holding me. A few moments passed as my words sunk into his foggy brain, but he finally let me go.

I turned to face him, crossly folding my arms on my heaving chest in a meager attempt to salvage some of my dashed pride. He blinked his sleepy eyes and smoothed his reddish colored shirt which had been messed up somewhat during the brief scuffle. "What was that all about, Kyle?"

I huffed. "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times - keep your eyes on the dash!"

Aggravation curled the corners of his mouth. "Aw, man! And every time you tell me that I say the same thing. 'It's on-'"

"'Auto-pilot,'" I finished impatiently. "Yes, yes, but the computer can make mistakes. You've got to watch it, or who knows where we'll end up."

He shook his head. "You worry too much."

I rolled my eyes. "If I worried too much, I would never have gone with you to Zeka's moon, where we almost got killed, I would never have listened to you when you proposed that daring trip to Carcia, and for that matter I would have never become a shuttle pilot, tramping through space with nothing but a couple of layers of titanium between me and total vacuum. Risks must be taken, and I take risks, but to the best of my ability, I take all the precautions I can. We have enough to worry about without mechanical failure in the equation too."

He lifted an eyebrow. "You put some thought into that, didn't you?"

"Just sit down and pilot the craft, will you?"

He smiled like he always did when he knew he had won and sat down. "We're almost there, anyway."

I flourished my hand in the air as I took a seat next to him. "All the more reason to stay alert."

He did not reply.

I looked out of the forward window, into the blue-gray haze of hyperspace shielding, and folded my hands in my lap. The shield fluctuated and shimmered with a sort of hypnotizing effect, and my eyes were drawn dreamily into it, my thoughts wandering randomly.

Hyperspace shielding was a remarkable and very essential part of hyperspace travel. It preserved a normal space object, like the vessel we were in, from hyperspace, in which such an object could not exist otherwise. In hyperspace, there was no such thing as gravity. There was no such thing as time. There was no such thing as mass. Everything in normal space was dependant on all of those things, and if we were to jump into hyperspace without something to protect us, we would be obliterated. The shield changed the rules of hyperspace in a localized way, creating and sustaining a small piece of space-time for us to exist in until we reached our destination.

That made me think about our destination. I really didn't know much about it, save that it was going to be hard to get into, and that Greg thought it might be very promising financially. "Where exactly are we going again?"

"Planet X," he said with a laugh. "It's nameless. It's numerical designation is T835906C78, if that means anything to you."

I smiled. "We'll just stick to Planet X for now." I leaned back and stretched my arms out behind me, emitting a lazy, contented grunt that lasted for a few very pleasant seconds. After all this time in this cramped little vessel, I was anxious to reach our terminus and suddenly curious about what to expect from it. I leaned forward again and released my breath in a big gush while saying, "Tell me about it again. I don't remember all of the details."

Greg loved details, and I often tuned him out when the facts got to be tedious to listen to, but now I wanted to know. He shifted in his seat and crossed his arms, his face taking on that scholarly look that it always took when he was about to tell me everything he knew about something. "Well, we really don't know much about it. It's top secret. But there has to be a reason the government guards it so heavily. There's some good evidence that suggests the planet is extremely rich in some sort of valuable material. Some have speculated gold, or some kind of precious stone, or titanium ore - can you imagine finding titanium deposits in a pure, usable state, no dressing necessary? Boy, if anyone ever stumbled over that they'd make an absolute fortune! Ilmenite is more time consuming to process, and more expensive... And for shuttle pilots like us, it would be dream." He grinned at me. "Just slip in, grab a load and go sell it. Easy cash. But whatever is down there, it must be incredibly valuable. A lot of people have tried to get in there, but they've never been heard of again."

I sat up straight. I could handle the level of risk in everything else he had said, but that last sentence didn't set well. Guards? Eh, we might not be able to get by them, but they shouldn't pose any mortal threat. Top secret? We had flown under such radar before. But never heard of again? I never liked those words when they came out of Greg's mouth. "I'm sure you omitted that last part when you told me about this, Greg."

He smiled nervously. "Mmmm, did I?"

"Yes," I said blankly, "and I don't think I would have agreed to come if I'd heard it."

He shrugged and smiled impishly. "Well, then can you blame me?"

I gave him a glare that said it all.

"Look," he said pleadingly, "it can't be that bad, and if we can get in there, we'll be rich and famous and we can retire on Jushai."

Delicious images of Jushai passed through my mind without invitation. The crystal clear waters, the warm tropical environment, the exotic plants and wildlife, the food... the girls... But I shook my head to clear it. "That's what you said about Myovic."

"Well? I was right about the money, wasn't I?"

"Yes, but we didn't get any of it, because I had to do a fly-by and scoop your butt out of there before they killed you."

He waved his hand. "Ah, details, details. -Oh, wait, here we are." He had looked down at the dash for a change and noticed our location just as the trusty auto-pilot (thank goodness it was trusty) kicked off and dropped us into normal space.

The haze faded and was replaced by a glorious star field. My eyes hungered for that sight after so many days of nothing but hyperspace. But the stars were far outshined and almost totally eclipsed by another object. There loomed a world that looked for all the galaxy like any other marginally inhabited world - green, wet, and peaceful. It nearly dominated the whole picture, just about excluding the stars altogether, and leaving only a small gap on the side through which the far off suns could be seen. Well, as long as we were here, we might as well take a look around. That planet didn't look like it could hurt a flea, and the sensors were confirming my conclusions in that respect. The atmosphere was perfectly normal, the ground perfectly normal... my fears were evidently for nothing.

"And there lies Amaterasu," Greg said dramatically.

I looked at him sharply. "I thought you said it didn't have a name."

His mouth twitched. "It doesn't. But this planet has become a legend among shuttle pilots. Everyone wants to go there. Some for wealth, some for the satisfaction of curiosity, but most have the secondary goal of collecting enough information to reveal its secrets. It's nicknamed 'Amaterasu' after an ancient Earth legend. If I remember correctly, Amaterasu was a Japanese goddess... goddess of the sun, I think it was. She hid in a cave until another goddess lured her out. Silly myth, but there are some interesting parallels between the story and this planet."

I was starting to tune him out again. I heard "Amaterasu," "goddess" and "cave" and got the gist of it well enough. I was looking all around us to see if I could find where the drawback to this too-good-to-be-true picture was. All at once I saw it. My skin went cold. There were ships completely surrounding the planet. Big ships; a whole fleet of them! I hadn't seen them before because they were hard to make out against the snippet of starfield, but as we drifted toward the atmosphere, they seemed to be clearer. Maybe it was just my eyes adjusting.

Their massive hulls gleamed against the total blackness of space. Propulsion systems, solar arrays and loads of weaponry made jagged the otherwise smooth edges and cluttered the mirrored surfaces. They were the government's guard ships, that much was obvious, but they seemed to be more heavily armed than the ones I had seen in the past.

I reached over to grab Greg's arm, to direct his attention toward our formidable competition, but I was too late. I saw one of the ships open fire on us. I opened my mouth to shout, but nothing came out. Time seemed to slow down as I watched the beam of destructive energy sizzle toward our little craft. It hit with blood-curdling crack, and then there was the unmistakable sound of gushing air. We were venting atmosphere. "Hull breach!" I shouted. "Dive!"

Greg was way ahead of me. He pointed the nose at the ground and the planet seemed to rush up at us. I stared tensely out the window and my gut tightened in a vain effort to push us faster. Every moment was precious. Thankfully the breach was a relatively small one, so we had a little time before all our air was blown out - but not much time. With that much pressure difference, a pin hole could do us in in only a few minute's time. My hands grew clammy on my knees. I could see that we were getting close but I wouldn't know exactly how far we were until we hit the air.

There was a lurch as we pierced the atmosphere and a hull protection field engaged to keep the craft cool against our wild decent. I was relieved that that function was intact - I had been a little concerned that the blast might have damaged it. I fell back against my seat and sighed deeply. Our troubles were far from over but at least we weren't going to suffocate. Probably. Soon we should reach a depth that had high enough air pressure to stop the air from escaping or at least slow it down significantly.

The turbulence shook us and loose objects bounced around in the shuttle. I wished I had had time to secure everything before we tried to make entry, but it was too late now. I just held on and tried not to worry about it. The ground danced blurrily before us. I started to chew my lip nervously, but stopped when a bump almost made my teeth pierce the skin. This kind of rapid decent wasn't the best for the anatomy, and even though we trained for things like this, I was still concerned about the after effects.

We fell... and fell... The air gradually stopped rushing out of our breach and started rushing into it. The roar of wind and screaming engines filled the cabin with a din so loud we could hardly hear ourselves think. When the ground seemed a little too close to still be accelerating the way we were, I shouted over the noise, "Pull up!"

Greg's hands, which had been frantically manipulating the controls, now clenched into useless fists on the dash. "Blast fried the boosters!" he yelled. "I can't level off!"

I flew out of my seat and ran to the back to take a look at the damage. It was bad. The unit that controlled the boosters was nothing but a hunk of charred wires and melted plastic now. I felt sick. I hadn't anticipated that this system would take a hit, but I should have known. It wasn't too far from the breach. "No way to fix this!" I lamented. "We'll have to use the parachute!" But secretly, I wondered if that would do any good.

All the technology in the world cannot save your life if you get in a bind. It's too fragile, to prone to failure. A wise pilot always keeps around a few primitive systems that can save him in a crunch, and I considered myself wise, but although a parachute is a very good thing to have around in case your reverse boosters fail, It wasn't really designed to handle a dive like the one we were in. It would be like trying to slow a meteor down by blowing on it.

I launched the parachute and crossed my fingers. It couldn't hurt anything, certainly, and I was out of options. I felt the drag as it opened up, but I could already see that it wasn't enough to slow us in time. We were going to crash. I looked down, out of the forward window, where the ground was spinning up to us. I closed my eyes to keep from getting dizzy. Only a few more seconds and it would all be over. Would we live or die? Probably die, but I tried to stay positive anyway.

The crash was loud, violent and devastating. The shuttle bounced once and rolled over and over, crunching and breaking and losing momentum by degrees. The creaks and groans of twisting metal and the sounds of shattering glass grated on my ears. The metal immediately compressed around us and pinned us in. I was sure I had broken several ribs and an ankle, and I wondered how many skull fractures I had. Everything in me tensed as though that might somehow cause us to stop. I wanted to stop. I wanted to quit crashing! I mentally screamed for it to end. But it just went on and on.

We finally ground to a halt. Pain flooded my body. My whole frame felt like I had just come out of a washing machine's spin cycle, and my mind was having trouble coping with all the complaints. My voice seemed very far away as I murmured, "Damn," and then I passed out. Greg had done it again.

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