Steph Bennion - Hollow Moon

“Administrator!” called one of the workers. “We have radio contact.”

Verdandi walked to a window overlooking the runway and stared into the distance. Apart from the odd wispy cloud, the dusky purple sky was empty.

“Put it on loudspeaker, please,” she instructed. “Endymion!”

Endymion jumped. “Yes, Administrator?”

“Take your friends and leave,” she said, still facing the window. “I don’t want you here when our visitors arrive.”

Endymion’s face fell. The loudspeaker in the centre of the room crackled into life.

“This is Captain Quirinus of freighter Platypus calling Newbrum spaceport control. Can you hear me, spaceport control? Over.”

“ Platypus ?” remarked Philyra. “What an odd name.”

“Still here, Endymion?” Verdandi said impatiently.

Endymion reluctantly stood up to leave, then a thought struck him. “Is this about what was found at the Eden Ravines?” he asked slyly. “I may know something about that.”

Verdandi faced Endymion squarely and gave him a cold stare.

“You never cease to amaze me,” she snapped. “Stay there and be quiet!”

Endymion grinned and went to stand by the window. The operator seated near where Verdandi herself stood reached to his console and flicked a switch.

“This is Newbrum control calling, err… Platypus . Are you receiving me? Over.”

“Receiving you loud and clear,” replied the pilot. “We’re on our final approach, heading due west on a controlled glide.”

“Warning,” a synthesized female voice calmly interrupted, speaking from the Platypus . “Forward starboard undercarriage malfunction.”

“Ignore her,” said Quirinus. “Are we clear to land? Over.”

The operator looked up at Verdandi, who nodded.

“You are clear to land, Platypus ,” he confirmed. “Are you having problems? Over.”

“We should be okay,” called Quirinus. The pilot was struggling to make himself heard above the swelling background static. “We’re coming in a lot faster than I would have liked. We’re leaking coolant from the brakes; the ailerons are also a little stiff from possible dust contamination. The AI also thinks we have a problem with the landing gear but I’m sure we’ll cope!” There followed a muffled conversation in the background. “Ravana said I should mention that we’ve run out of chocolate biscuits. Over.”

The operator nodded, not that Quirinus could see him. “Runway one is clear. That’s the big one,” he added hastily, just to avoid any confusion. “Over.”

“Here they come,” said Verdandi, looking out of the window.

A small dot had appeared high above the eastern horizon, one growing larger by the second as the incoming spacecraft screamed through the air at a rate only obtainable by dropping out of space onto a planet inconveniently rotating the wrong way. Within moments the purple and white dot had expanded enough for the watchers to see its short wings. As Verdandi, Endymion and the others stared out across the Tatrill Sea, they suddenly heard a loud crashing rumble as the speeding projectile dropped through the thickening atmosphere and overtook its own sound waves.

“What was that?” asked Philyra, startled. “Thunder?”

“Sonic boom,” replied the man at the next desk.

Endymion kept his gaze upon the incoming spacecraft, which was coming in low and fast. The freighter had four wings, one pair above another, seemingly made of a strange flexible material and quite unlike the rigid swing-wings of other mixed-mode spacecraft he had seen. As he looked closer, he was startled to see that only three of the four undercarriage assemblies had lowered into the correct position, for one of the front sets of wheels had decided not to join its companions. The operator too had seen the same thing and flicked the switch on his console once again.

“Scramble the fire engines,” he ordered. “All units to runway one.”

“Do you think they’ll make it?” asked Endymion, suddenly worried. This was one job he did not want to be sweeping off the runway.

“Newbrum spaceport to Platypus ,” the operator called. “We have visual on possible landing gear malfunction. Please advise. Over.”

“I was hoping the computer was over-reacting again,” crackled the response. “Never mind. We’re running light so hopefully it’ll hold. Over.”

“I wish I could be that confident,” murmured Verdandi.

The Platypus was now no more than five kilometres away, then three, then one; skimming ever lower above the surface of the sea. It appeared the pilot was trying to put the wheels down as soon as possible so not to waste a single centimetre of the long landing strip. Nose high, the cylindrical hull of the freighter swept over the marker beacons at the start of the runway, clipping one of them with a tail fin to send it spinning away. Moments later, an almighty screech of rubber ripped through the thin air and the rear wheels met the ground.

“He’s doing well,” the operator murmured.

The Platypus tore at breakneck speed down the uneven runway, the freighter’s wings shaking violently. Endymion found himself holding his breath as he watched the front end of the spacecraft slowly descend onto the last remaining set of wheels. The freighter tilted a little to starboard as the weight settled upon its precarious support, but the undercarriage seemed to be holding. Endymion released a sigh of relief.

“What a landing!” he murmured.

The Platypus sped past the spaceport dome, the spacecraft’s main thrusters now in full reverse mode in an attempt to bring it to a halt. Verdandi moved to the next window to continue to watch its progress and Endymion followed suit. With smoke billowing from the undercarriage brakes, the freighter was slowing down but rapidly running out of runway. It finally came to a shuddering halt mere metres from the end, then promptly disappeared beneath the plumes of white vapour pouring from its wheels. The Platypus had landed.

“ Platypus to Newbrum control, we are down safe,” crackled the speaker. “Over.”

“Captain Quirinus, that is both the best and the worst landing I have ever seen!” replied the operator. “Welcome to Newbrum. Over.”

Endymion watched two fire rescue vehicles rush out onto the runway towards where the spacecraft had come to rest. Incredibly, the freighter was now moving again, turning around on its three good sets of wheels in a determined attempt to make it to the spaceport hangar under its own power. The smoke cleared and as the spacecraft approached the dome Endymion recognised it as a heavily-modified Mars-class interplanetary carrier in unusual purple and white livery. Having four wings instead of two was strange enough, but the craft also had a curious flat projection jutting forward from the curved bow of the cylindrical hull. As he watched, the wings began to retract into the hull, revealing a smaller than usual cargo door at the side.

“Strange-looking spacecraft,” Bellona remarked.

Endymion had to agree. “The name isn’t so silly after all,” he mused. “The flat bit at the front does make it look a bit like a duck-billed platypus.”

Upon learning that Miss Clymene was still at the spaceport, pestering off-duty flight crews in an attempt to find someone willing to accept a charter to Daode, Verdandi asked her to take charge of Endymion, Bellona and Philyra while she went to the arrivals lounge to meet the crew of the Platypus . When Endymion once again hinted they were in some way involved following their trip to the Eden Ravines, Verdandi reluctantly invited Miss Clymene and her students to accompany her. Endymion, Bellona and Philyra went with some trepidation, for their earlier jokes about aliens had settled uneasily upon their minds and imaginations were running wild as to what the visitors from the legendary colony ship would look like. As they walked, Bellona attempted to bring Miss Clymene up to date, but her teacher still had other things on her mind.