Chapter 607 Glory vs. Anxiety

Chapter 607 Glory vs. Anxiety

607 Glory vs. Anxiety

Eleven days later.

With enough data about the planet—or its surface, at least— the crew of the Farsight had a prioritized list of possible landing areas. Each of them had points of interest that the ship’s AI had picked out and the researchers had filtered. They ranged from unique geographical formations, to clusters of vegetation that differed from the plants around it, to possible artificial structures that would require a more hands-on investigation. What none of them included, however, were signs of habitation, so the planet had been deemed safe enough for a single lander to be sent down.

“What we know about the planet is that it’s currently a pangea. There is a single, mountainous supercontinent and the rest of the surface is scattered with archipelagos. A bit more than 88% of the surface is water, which our satellite scans were unable to penetrate beyond a certain depth.

“Proxima Centauri itself serves the same gravitational purpose of a moon, which Proxima Centauri b lacks. Or at least we assume that to be the case, as the tides have moved in and out over the past 11 E-days we’ve been surveying it. However, no matter whether it’s aphelion or perihelion, the tides have been steady, so our confidence in the star itself controlling the tides is only about 47%.

(Ed note: “E-time” is the time that passes on Earth, divided into E-years, E-months, and E-days. Hours and minutes are too short to bother comparing to the passage of time on Earth.)

“So, today, we will be sending a single lander to the center of the land mass we’ve tentatively named New Australia, and the crew we send with it—you—will disembark the lander in full environmental protection gear, take samples based on your specialty, and IMMEDIATELY reboard the lander. The time it will spend on the surface is exactly thirty minutes, not a single second more. So you will be back on the lander or you will be left behind. And assuming you survive until our sample research is complete, which isn’t a guarantee, when we return, you will be confined to quarters and stripped of surface privileges for the duration of the mission. Thê source of this content n/o/v/(el)bi((n))

The only thing that kept them from rattling around like dried peas in an old-fashioned air popcorn popper was the gravity plating underneath them. It was still a rough ride, though, especially once the pilot initiated a “random walk” evasive maneuver sequence.

Major Petrovich loosed an uproarious laugh and shouted, “It’s good to be alive, isn’t it, ladies and gentlemen?”

Only a Marine would be crazy enough to enjoy a ride like the one the researchers were on. Only a few of them had had time to strap into their acceleration seats and engage their crash harnesses, and the sound of dozens of people praying to different gods filled the air in the compartment they were in.

Once the lander crossed the Karman Line, however, it rapidly slowed so as not to present a fireball of superheated air around it. The pilot could have all the fun he wanted... outside the atmosphere, anyway. But once his lander had switched to its atmospheric engines and started sucking air instead of vacuum, he had been given strict orders to land as covertly as possible to minimize any disturbance the arrival of humanity caused to the first planet humanity had ever visited outside the Sol system.

The dizzy and nauseous researchers fled to their acceleration seats and strapped into their crash harnesses with a collective frenzy. At least those that could see clearly, anyway; the ones whose helmets had been fouled by last night’s dinner were still having a bit of trouble finding their assigned seats.

The pilot’s voice came across in the hold. “Eight minutes to ground, passengers. Collect your bellies and strap in. This will be a smooth landing, but I make no promises as to the rest of the journey. The landing may be up to me, but the flight is in god’s hands.”

With a collective sigh of relief, those with fouled helmets began a self-cleaning cycle of their environmental suits, triggering an ionic sweep that would vaporize anything stuck to the insides of their visors. The smell, however, lingered, and they were currently thanking whatever higher power they believed in for the suits’ “plumbing” connections that ensured the ONLY fouled things were their helmets.