K Gillenwater: The Man in 14C: A Collection of Science Fiction Stories

I thought about the picture my sister, Zara, had handed to me before I’d left on this trip. It was a silly thing, a drawing of a dinosaur standing in a 20th century neighborhood. So out of place. So ridiculous. She knew it made me laugh. And this was the kind of job where you needed to find moments to laugh. I had pasted it next to my berth.

I felt just like the dinosaur at that moment, as if I were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I could’ve chosen a different route. I could’ve been millions of miles away from this situation. But I’d selected the job for the money. I wasn’t planning on doing another long haul. I’d promised Aaron that much. He hadn’t been happy when I’d given him the flight plan details. I’d be gone for almost a year.

I was the dinosaur who’d found himself sandwiched between a neat row of houses and a backyard fence in old-fashioned suburbia. But instead of a neighborhood, I was stranded in an unfamiliar solar system that had nothing in common with the world I’d come from.

No point in arguing with Carlos about how the damage had occurred. We were in the situation, and we had to deal with it. I turned back to my screens and focused on the star map once more. “We’ve got to be able to find somewhere that has potable water, even ice.” I selected in the resource we needed. Every company ship was outfitted with an emergency resource locator. Didn’t always help, but it came standard ever since the Nexus accident decades ago. “And put out that cigarette, I don’t want to get docked any pay for breaking the rules.”

Carlos sniffed. “If we even make it back for our pay.”

Clearly a pessimist. Just my luck.

A flashing green light appeared on the star map. “Here.” I waved my hand over the light to expand the view and get more detail about what the computer had found. “Only a day or two away. Looks like a decent-sized moon around one of the Super-Earths in this system. Says it’s likely to have a large amount of ice, possibly some running water depending on where we land.”

Relief coursed through me in a cool wave. This would work. If we sealed off the hole in the double hull, we could replenish our water resources. The lander could be used as a scouting vehicle and was equipped for a certain amount of storage.

“I’ll work the helm.” Carlos assigned himself the less risky duty.

One of us would have to stay behind on the ship to control the departure and reentry of the lander from the docking bay. Although the ship was mostly automated when it came to handling cargo and working the basic life support systems, the emergency workings generally were controlled by the human components, just in case there was a breakdown of the automation.

I nodded.

He must’ve felt a curtness in that nod. “You’re a better pilot.”

I wasn’t surprised Carlos wanted to remain on board. There would be a lot of unknowns with this mission. Although the moon contained what we needed, it didn’t mean I could just land, suck up some water and zip back to the ship in an hour or two. We could encounter any number of problems ranging from atmospheric dangers, gravity problems, unstable topography. But at least the computer assured us no life existed on this moon, so the possibly of First Contact was crossed of the list of dangers.

It had been known to happen – First Contact. And mostly not with good results. The Earth Government had cobbled together a protocol plan after the first encounter with alien life more than fifty years ago. The attitude the company had about First Contact was: not our problem, not our mission. In other words, avoid putting yourself into a position where the First Contact Protocol may come into play. Not only was it dangerous for the crew, it was costly for the company.

“That’s fine. One of us has to go. Might as well be me.” I waved my hand over the monitor that displayed the moon to drill down further into the information available. “Looks like temperatures are within a decent range: -30 degrees Celsius to 40 degrees Celsius. Depending on the position in the system.”

“Lemme get some sleep. Can we discuss this at the next shift? I’m beat.”

I’d forgotten that Carlos had been dead asleep when the emergency had occurred. I nodded. “We can figure out a repair plan for the water hold and I’ll give you the lowdown on the approach for water recovery.”

“Sounds good.” Carlos turned to leave the cramped space. “Oh, hey, do you have Fray #7 ? I left it in the bathroom a couple of days ago. Haven’t seen it since.”

Carlos’s dopey vampire comic. Did he really think I went for that kind of reading? “No, I never touched your comic book.” I remembered the cover – a huge snake-like monster, its mouth full of teeth, on the verge of chomping down on some futuristic character. Why Carlos insisted on packing a stack of these comics in his gear for the trip was beyond me. We had everything available in the electronic library at the swipe of a hand. “Not my kind of stuff.”

“Well, let me know if you see it. I could’ve sworn I left it in there.”

By the look in his dark gaze, I knew he didn’t believe me. The last thing I needed was Carlos going nuts over a comic book right before I hopped in the lander for our mission. We needed to trust each other not get distracted by petty problems. “I’ll make sure to keep an eye out for it when I do my rounds.”

That seemed to satisfy him. Treat the comic book as a serious problem, and he was happy. Treat it like the dumb piece of trashy writing that it was, get retribution. I was not in the mood, nor could I risk retribution.

He nodded, gave a grim smile and left the piloting deck. “See you at 1800 hours.”

I glanced at the clock to my right. Eight hours from now. I had a lot of research to work on in the meantime.

The flight suit restricted my movements more than I liked. It was pressurized to mimic the Earth’s atmosphere, but the odd feeling of floating inside the slightly-loose fitting suit was unnerving. I’d never gotten used to it. When I moved my hand forward, instead of feeling the end of my suit mitts, my hand sort of floated inside the suit. A constant pressure of air kept my body from touching any part of the suit. This also kept me protected from extreme temperatures when on the surface. The suit could withstand a certain level of temperatures without affecting the wearer.

I ignored the sensation as best I could and reached out to manipulate the landing controls. The lander didn’t have the same swipe screens as the cargo ship. With a hand encased in triple thick fabric and shielding, the swiping didn’t work. When on a mission such as this, the pilot had to go back to old fashioned buttons and levers to operate the lander.

“You are within range of the landing zone.” Carlos’s voice came through my headset as a tinny distant noise. The suits were built for surviving unknown conditions, not for perfect sound quality. The video image of Carlos projected on my helmet face shield was clear, however. “You should be able to see the sharp ridge on one side of you and the pools on the other.”

The lander came down out of thick layer of ice clouds, and the ridge appeared right in front of me. The pools of still, clear water stretched out in the distance. Plenty to fill our tanks. “Roger. I see the zone. All clear.” I conducted the landing sequence and slowed my approach. Dust kicked up from the flat spot we’d selected from the computer’s rudimentary map on board the ship.

“I’m receiving the lander’s scans now. Looks like we can recover 2,000 gallons without a problem. That should be more than enough.”

“Agreed.” I set the lander down softly on the hard soil of the mystery moon. My lander’s tank could hold 500 gallons, so I’d have to make several trips to fill up our on-board tank. It would put us a few days’ behind schedule, which the company wouldn’t like, but it couldn’t be helped. “Headed out now to hook up the pump.”