Kyle West - Evolution

“Hangar depressurized,” Anna said.

Then, the LCD showed a shot of the hangar doors sliding open. As the doors opened, the oceanic surface of Earth glowed blue on the screen.

Next thing, we were out of Skyhome. The hangar doors shut ahead of us, and as our view panned out, I could see the outer cylinder of the Mid Ring as it continued its steady spin. I felt myself float upward, restrained only by my safety harness. We had now entered zero g.

“Bird’s out of the nest,” Makara said.

Everyone was quiet as we drifted further down toward the planet. As we fell backward at a controlled rate, the other Rings came into view — the Inner Ring First, then Alpha Tunnel connecting it to the Mid. After, the rest of the tunnels came into view, connecting the Inner Ring with the Mid Ring with the Outer. All three rotated like wheels. The sky city circled away on its own orbit around the Earth, speeding away from us at an alarming rate. The solar arrays on the Outer Ring’s side glowed like diamonds in the sunlight, among the myriad of stars that bore silent witness. Even through the windows of the Outer Ring, I could see the green of the vegetation within. It was easy to just stare and be mesmerized by both its beauty and ingenuity. I felt sad, realizing that it was a feat of engineering that would most likely never be achieved again.

“Bird falling,” Makara said. “All systems are still go. Entering flight path in fifteen seconds.”

Those fifteen seconds felt like the longest in my life. Skyhome raced farther away on its orbit as Odin’s backward thrusters powered on, tilting the ship downward toward the planet.

“Go,” Makara said.

Makara flipped another switch. Then, in a surge of acceleration, Odin powered forward. I was pushed backward in my seat from the force. Skyhome was now distant, lost in a miasma of light cast from the wide rim of planet Earth. It had completely disappeared by the time Odin’s nose angled downward for atmosphere reentry.

“Make sure you’re strapped in good,” Makara said. “Things might get a bit…bumpy.”

As soon as she said that, Odin vibrated violently. I was afraid that the entire ship would disintegrate around me. The entire window glowed red from the friction of the passing atmosphere. I felt like we were getting sucked into a fiery vortex.

A terrifying thirty seconds passed before Makara spoke again.

“Back thrusters burning.”

The ship lurched, sending the safety harness pulling against my chest. Again, I felt like I was floating upward — not from a lack of gravity, but from the halting of our freefall. I could feel the backburners pushing us away from Earth, slowing our descent.

Finally, we reached an equilibrium. Sweat trailed down my face as I fell back into my seat, breathing a sigh of relief that the most harrowing part of the descent was over. Odin now flew horizontally, in much the same way as an airplane would. We had slowed from our speed of 17,500 miles per hour to one twentieth of that in the space of minutes.

“Atmosphere reentry complete,” Makara said. “Heading to target location.”

Odin slid further down toward the planet. The windows revealed a dark and cloudy sky, within which light flashed periodically. It was storming on the surface. Other than that, I could not see anything. The LCD showed us above the western Mexican coast, about halfway to our target location.

“Staying in the clouds a bit longer than planned,” Makara said. “Altitude fifteen thousand feet. I’m not taking any chances with that storm.”

“Roger that,” Ashton said. “You’re in Empire territory now, two hundred miles northwest from Nova Roma.”

“Copy that,” Makara said. “Continuing course to target location.”

Ten minutes later, Makara pressed a button on the control stick.

“Disengaging autopilot, engaging in manual mode.”

“Roger that,” Ashton said. “You’re ninety percent there. Knock ‘em dead, kid.”

I could see the side of Makara’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat from my spot behind Anna. The copilot was calm, reserved, intently watching the many dials and gauges on the dash.

“Nearing target,” Anna said. “Might be a good time to descend.”

“A little longer,” Makara said.

Anna paused. “Makara, are you sure…”

“Last I checked, I was the pilot here.” Makara said nothing for a long moment. “We can’t be seen. Not yet.”

On the screen, it showed us nearing the end of our line. We were almost on top of our target.

Suddenly, Makara veered the ship to the left. I lurched to the right, the safety harness cutting into me. I barely held back a scream from coming to my lips.

We were in freefall. We fell a couple thousand feet before Makara must have remembered we had thrusters. She engaged them, causing the ship, once more, to slow down. I felt like I was being crushed into my seat from the g-forces.

We broke from the clouds. Night covered the land, and it was hard to see any discernable spot we could land on. How Makara and Anna could pilot this thing in the dark, I had no clue. Makara and Ashton must have practiced some nighttime landings.

“Pinging,” Makara said.

Anna pressed a few buttons in quick succession on the dash, her fingers a blur. The screen switched to one of a dot, followed by a long line below it.

Odin’s computerized male voice responded to Anna’s inputs. Calibrating terrain .

Finally, the line on the LCD changed. A few jagged, green spikes indicated nearby mountains. A small depression appeared on the other side of the screen.

Anna pointed her finger on the depression. “There it is.”

“Heading down,” Makara said.

We thundered forward, edging closer to the surface. We were now a mere five hundred feet above it. Anyone watching form below would have been able to see us, not to mention hear us.

“Slowing,” Makara said.

Makara guided Odin toward the depression on the screen, slowing it to a hover.

“Descending,” Makara said.

I felt the ship going down, butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

From the windshield, I could finally see the land come into view. We were lowering into a clearing surrounded on all sides by tall, verdant trees, masked by darkness. It was more trees in one moment than I had seen in the rest of my life.

The ship paused a moment right above the ground, the fusion drive in the back going quiet. I heard the squeal of retracting struts. Then, with a final lift, we alighted gently on the Earth. After two months, we were back, and it had only felt like we were going to get killed.

“Skyhome,” Makara said, “we have landed.”

Samuel and I began our return to Earth with a good, old-fashioned recon. I was a little leery — after all, I felt I always had bad luck when it came to recons — but at the same time, it was fine by me because I was eager to get the lay of the land.

When Odin’s blast door hissed open, we were met with a rush of warm, sticky air, pungent with the smell of vegetation. The wind blew softly, like a caress, folding the long grass on its side as it whispered through the blades. The warmth on my skin was foreign, yet definitely not unwelcome. The tall forms of trees bent slightly with the breeze, leaves rustling, as countless insects chirped in the night. The sky above was thick, pasty, misty, heavy yet unoppressive. To someone like me, who has grown up surrounded by machines, feeling nature felt strange and beautiful, like a primordial memory buried deep in my consciousness, a memory unremembered until I saw it before me. It was almost, dare I say, spiritual, or the closest thing to spiritual I had ever experienced.