Chapter One can be found in the diary index. April 6, 2006
Even though millions of computer calculations had been done, they were still insufficient to have predicted the wormhole, as these anomalies do not generally advertise their presence. The mission was aimed for a planet that had been discovered a handful light years from the outer reaches of the solar system. A planet some committee, for good or ill, had decided to call “Atlantis”.
But the wormhole had other ideas. The ship had been drawn into it almost immediately upon leaving the regions of Pax’s orbit, thus putting an end to years of careful planning by hundreds of people. The ship careened through this fold in space to places unknown taking a slumbering Abraham Talbot along, without so much as a by-your-leave.
* * *
In his dream, Abe was running wildly into a desert, his legs moving in slow motion, with some unknown terror close on his heals. Where can I hide? Which way do I go? He awoke with a start. His face was mashed against the side of a plastic dome. The air was stale. His right arm was numb. It slowly dawned on him he was still inside the hiberchamber. Something had gone terribly wrong.
There was silence, no sound of engines or computers, no familiar hum of equipment. He felt around for the latches to get the hell out of this thing. This was no easy task, as he was tilted almost on his head. His right arm was practically useless, his mind fogged and his fingers clumsy, but at last he undid the last latch and pushed hard allowing some fresh air into his lungs. But even this air was growing thin. He had to get out of here, and soon. This was going to be difficult on several levels. He was nauseated, and his head was pounding. His mouth felt cottony and to say that he felt weak would be a terrible understatement. All signs that the usual awakening sequence had been accelerated. He was lucky to be alive. He was also naked as the day he was born.
Clambering out of the chamber, he reached over and unplugged his companel receiver from the receptacle and held it in his right hand. He flipped the on switch expecting to get connected to the ship’s computer grid. He felt the enhancers beginning to work and his mind cleared considerably but there was nothing coming through the companel view screen and nothing but static from the speakers.
Was he on Atlantis? It didn’t seem likely as they had planned a water landing and there was no motion whatsoever. The only lights left on inside were the emergency LEDs emitting that low eerie purple light that made him apprehensive because in all the simulations, this was the way things looked right before he “died”.
He checked all the built in instruments to see if he could get any idea of what was going on outside. This was a real chore in itself, as he was standing on instruments that should have been on the walls. Atmosphere? Temperature? Nothing seemed to be working except those damn lights. His lungs were starting to burn from lack of oxygen and it was getting harder to concentrate. He had no choice but to open the hatch while he still remembered how to do it.
If he had believed in a god, he might have sent up a prayer, but as it was, all he could muster was, “Oh shit, here we go.”
He ran through the sequence of four manual safety locks before he could pull the main hatch lever. He hesitated, closed his eyes and pushed hard. The door burst open and fell about four feet to the ground. He held his breath and looked around. All he could see was a berm of freshly disturbed soil.
He gripped the bottom of the open hatch, to steady himself, and exhaled. Then he took a terrified half breath through his teeth. Nothing awful happened. He exhaled and took in another, relaxing just a bit. What greeted him was cool fresh air with a smell about it he had never encountered before. What was it? Not flowers, not sweet, so much as spicy. In any event he took another breath and then another and felt relief as his head began to clear and the tightness in his lungs subsided.
He crept over to a narrow space between the ship and the pile of dirt and wriggled his way through the gap. He stood up and looked out over a vast plain. The sky was overcast with featureless dark gray clouds. He took a few wobbly steps away from the ship and noticed a nearby shrub that was about a foot high. It didn’t seem to have any leaves. Instead there were flattened succulent looking disk shaped things growing tight against the leathery branches that reminded him of some kind of fungus, the kind that grows sometimes on the sides of trees. They were various shades of brown and tan with reddish edges and looked poisonous to him. As he gazed farther out, he saw that the plain was dotted with them as far as the eye could see. They grew as desert plants do, each one needing a certain amount of space to survive. He scanned the horizon to see if there wasn’t an end to this desolation. He gingerly walked on bare feet around to the other side of the ship. In the distance he saw a gently sloping mountain range.
His heart slowly returned to its normal rhythm after the fear of a noxious atmosphere had been proven wrong. Where am I? What do I do now? Why is my companel silent? It began to sink in that he was totally out of communication, for the moment anyway. This bit of news made his mouth go dry. He steeled himself not to think about the realities of regular consciousness right now. He tapped at the unresponsive companel and flipped up the display. It was only showing the blue boot-up screen and all attempts to pull up a signal were in vain.
He forced himself to concentrate on the real tasks at hand, and said aloud, “Okay, water, shelter, food, in that order.” He circumvented the ship to see what condition it was in and a chill ran down his spine. The vast majority of the ship had rammed into the soil. He stood for several minutes gazing at this marvel of space travel, now jutting out at an impossible angle looking almost unrecognizable to him. He squeezed back through the small opening and struggled back inside. He tried opening the door that led to the main part of the ship, but it was hopelessly jammed. He could even see places where the metal had buckled.
He sat quietly for a few minutes letting this bit of information sink in. This small area of the ship that housed the hiberchamber had been constructed with just this kind of catastrophic scenario in mind. It had saved his life, but he knew there were only the most basic supplies stored in here. He started his search for whatever he could carry. A few of the compartments were jammed but thank goodness not the emergency gear locker. He found a sealed packet of clothes and a pair of boots and put them on. He pulled out the survival pack and made sure the shelter was in there. He rummaged around and pulled out the hand-held comlink in his pack. He turned the switch on and held it to his ear. Nothing. He placed it carefully back in its compartment. There was a compass, although who knew if that would be of any use on an alien planet.
Alien planet. It used to sound so exciting, in the simulations, in all the briefings and the presentations. They had dealt with information about his real destination and this definitely was not it. This was terrifying, especially without his neuro-link. God, don't think about it.
He knew there was only three days worth of food and water in his survival pack. In three days he had to find a source of water. He scanned the pod for anything else that he could take with him. The only thing that caught his eye was the TransHuman Project logo over the door. It was an image of a hand reaching into a field of stars. He found a screwdriver in his tool kit and pried it off carefully. He put it in a small pocket in the front of his jacket and buttoned down the flap.
He decided he should get going as soon as possible while it was still light. With the overcast sky he had no idea where the sun was. Nor did he know how long the days were, or even if there was a night, or if there were wild creatures roaming around looking for fresh meat. Damn. Too many variables to think about, especially without his computer backups.
If he had the grid at his disposal, he could run some simulations and decide on the best course of action. But as it was, he stuck with a basic fact.
Water. And soon.
He gave a long look around at the familiar equipment he was about to leave behind. He flipped the switch to the onboard rescue beacon. Another one of those of purple lights began to blink slowly. Well this at least was something.
He jumped down from the open hatch and pushed his pack ahead of him through the gap between the ship and the soil. He stood up and hefted it onto his shoulders and scanned the horizon again. There were mountains visible only in one direction. He took a deep breath and struck out toward them, compass in hand.
What he hadn't noticed in his preparations to depart, were the fine, pale gray root-like structures that had begun to grow around the fallen hatch door.
Chapter Two
Even though millions of computer calculations had been done, they were still insufficient to have predicted the wormhole, as these anomalies do not generally advertise their presence. The mission was aimed for a planet that had been discovered a handful light years from the outer reaches of the solar system. A planet some committee, for good or ill, had decided to call “Atlantis”.
But the wormhole had other ideas. The ship had been drawn into it almost immediately upon leaving the regions of Pax’s orbit, thus putting an end to years of careful planning by hundreds of people. The ship careened through this fold in space to places unknown taking a slumbering Abraham Talbot along, without so much as a by-your-leave.
* * *
In his dream, Abe was running wildly into a desert, his legs moving in slow motion, with some unknown terror close on his heals. Where can I hide? Which way do I go? He awoke with a start. His face was mashed against the side of a plastic dome. The air was stale. His right arm was numb. It slowly dawned on him he was still inside the hiberchamber. Something had gone terribly wrong.
There was silence, no sound of engines or computers, no familiar hum of equipment. He felt around for the latches to get the hell out of this thing. This was no easy task, as he was tilted almost on his head. His right arm was practically useless, his mind fogged and his fingers clumsy, but at last he undid the last latch and pushed hard allowing some fresh air into his lungs. But even this air was growing thin. He had to get out of here, and soon. This was going to be difficult on several levels. He was nauseated, and his head was pounding. His mouth felt cottony and to say that he felt weak would be a terrible understatement. All signs that the usual awakening sequence had been accelerated. He was lucky to be alive. He was also naked as the day he was born.
Clambering out of the chamber, he reached over and unplugged his companel receiver from the receptacle and held it in his right hand. He flipped the on switch expecting to get connected to the ship’s computer grid. He felt the enhancers beginning to work and his mind cleared considerably but there was nothing coming through the companel view screen and nothing but static from the speakers.
Was he on Atlantis? It didn’t seem likely as they had planned a water landing and there was no motion whatsoever. The only lights left on inside were the emergency LEDs emitting that low eerie purple light that made him apprehensive because in all the simulations, this was the way things looked right before he “died”.
He checked all the built in instruments to see if he could get any idea of what was going on outside. This was a real chore in itself, as he was standing on instruments that should have been on the walls. Atmosphere? Temperature? Nothing seemed to be working except those damn lights. His lungs were starting to burn from lack of oxygen and it was getting harder to concentrate. He had no choice but to open the hatch while he still remembered how to do it.
If he had believed in a god, he might have sent up a prayer, but as it was, all he could muster was, “Oh shit, here we go.”
He ran through the sequence of four manual safety locks before he could pull the main hatch lever. He hesitated, closed his eyes and pushed hard. The door burst open and fell about four feet to the ground. He held his breath and looked around. All he could see was a berm of freshly disturbed soil.
He gripped the bottom of the open hatch, to steady himself, and exhaled. Then he took a terrified half breath through his teeth. Nothing awful happened. He exhaled and took in another, relaxing just a bit. What greeted him was cool fresh air with a smell about it he had never encountered before. What was it? Not flowers, not sweet, so much as spicy. In any event he took another breath and then another and felt relief as his head began to clear and the tightness in his lungs subsided.
He crept over to a narrow space between the ship and the pile of dirt and wriggled his way through the gap. He stood up and looked out over a vast plain. The sky was overcast with featureless dark gray clouds. He took a few wobbly steps away from the ship and noticed a nearby shrub that was about a foot high. It didn’t seem to have any leaves. Instead there were flattened succulent looking disk shaped things growing tight against the leathery branches that reminded him of some kind of fungus, the kind that grows sometimes on the sides of trees. They were various shades of brown and tan with reddish edges and looked poisonous to him. As he gazed farther out, he saw that the plain was dotted with them as far as the eye could see. They grew as desert plants do, each one needing a certain amount of space to survive. He scanned the horizon to see if there wasn’t an end to this desolation. He gingerly walked on bare feet around to the other side of the ship. In the distance he saw a gently sloping mountain range.
His heart slowly returned to its normal rhythm after the fear of a noxious atmosphere had been proven wrong. Where am I? What do I do now? Why is my companel silent? It began to sink in that he was totally out of communication, for the moment anyway. This bit of news made his mouth go dry. He steeled himself not to think about the realities of regular consciousness right now. He tapped at the unresponsive companel and flipped up the display. It was only showing the blue boot-up screen and all attempts to pull up a signal were in vain.
He forced himself to concentrate on the real tasks at hand, and said aloud, “Okay, water, shelter, food, in that order.” He circumvented the ship to see what condition it was in and a chill ran down his spine. The vast majority of the ship had rammed into the soil. He stood for several minutes gazing at this marvel of space travel, now jutting out at an impossible angle looking almost unrecognizable to him. He squeezed back through the small opening and struggled back inside. He tried opening the door that led to the main part of the ship, but it was hopelessly jammed. He could even see places where the metal had buckled.
He sat quietly for a few minutes letting this bit of information sink in. This small area of the ship that housed the hiberchamber had been constructed with just this kind of catastrophic scenario in mind. It had saved his life, but he knew there were only the most basic supplies stored in here. He started his search for whatever he could carry. A few of the compartments were jammed but thank goodness not the emergency gear locker. He found a sealed packet of clothes and a pair of boots and put them on. He pulled out the survival pack and made sure the shelter was in there. He rummaged around and pulled out the hand-held comlink in his pack. He turned the switch on and held it to his ear. Nothing. He placed it carefully back in its compartment. There was a compass, although who knew if that would be of any use on an alien planet.
Alien planet. It used to sound so exciting, in the simulations, in all the briefings and the presentations. They had dealt with information about his real destination and this definitely was not it. This was terrifying, especially without his neuro-link. God, don't think about it.
He knew there was only three days worth of food and water in his survival pack. In three days he had to find a source of water. He scanned the pod for anything else that he could take with him. The only thing that caught his eye was the TransHuman Project logo over the door. It was an image of a hand reaching into a field of stars. He found a screwdriver in his tool kit and pried it off carefully. He put it in a small pocket in the front of his jacket and buttoned down the flap.
He decided he should get going as soon as possible while it was still light. With the overcast sky he had no idea where the sun was. Nor did he know how long the days were, or even if there was a night, or if there were wild creatures roaming around looking for fresh meat. Damn. Too many variables to think about, especially without his computer backups.
If he had the grid at his disposal, he could run some simulations and decide on the best course of action. But as it was, he stuck with a basic fact.
Water. And soon.
He gave a long look around at the familiar equipment he was about to leave behind. He flipped the switch to the onboard rescue beacon. Another one of those of purple lights began to blink slowly. Well this at least was something.
He jumped down from the open hatch and pushed his pack ahead of him through the gap between the ship and the soil. He stood up and hefted it onto his shoulders and scanned the horizon again. There were mountains visible only in one direction. He took a deep breath and struck out toward them, compass in hand.
What he hadn't noticed in his preparations to depart, were the fine, pale gray root-like structures that had begun to grow around the fallen hatch door.