Chapter 7: 7. Transition

“Mayday, this is Malik Rosen, formerly of the colony ship Starlight Journey. Does anybody read me, over.”

Moving at the insistence of the lazy waves lapping against it, Mal’s lifepod bobbed sedately in, what appeared to be, an endless ocean. The tiny craft’s hatch yawned open, inviting bright sunshine into the lifeboat’s claustrophobic interior. The warm rays were a welcome alternative to the red emergency lighting that had held the darkness at bay during his descent to the planet. Less welcome was the spray of sea foam that occasionally spilled over the edge of the open hatch like a drunkard sloshing beer from a tilted mug.

I’m either going to have to close the hatch soon or start bailing water, Malik thought grumpily as he scowled at the slowly expanding pool of salt water invading his pod. The fact that it was salt water had only been the first of several revelations concerning this new planet. There was still much to learn about his new home, but the first few hours after splashdown had been a welcome change of pace compared to his last hours aboard the Journey.

*******

Once the pod’s onboard systems had assured him, and then reassured him, that the planet’s atmosphere was safe to breathe, Malik had tossed his helmet into one corner of the two-man craft and thrown open the hatch with all the eagerness of a child ripping into an elaborately wrapped Christmas gift. Unfortunately, the dream of enjoying his first breaths of non-recycled air in decades turned into a nightmare of chest rattling coughs and head shaking sneezes. A salty scent like nothing he’d ever experienced burned his nose and a scratchy sensation in the back of his throat immediately had him leaning perilously over the edge of the doorway. For several uncomfortable moments, Malik struggled to remain steady amidst the coughs wracking his body. To make matters worse, the oxygen concentration, according to the pod’s sensors, was nearly 28%. That ratio of oxygen to other gasses was far higher than the 20% oxygen he’d grown accustomed to while aboard the Journey. He’d anticipated the need for some adjustment of his system to this new environment. What he hadn’t planned on was the wave of lightheadedness that sent him sinking to his knees upon the floor.

It had taken several minutes to grow acclimated to the unfamiliar world. At length, his rattling cough began to subside. He’d wiped at his watering eyes and looked out across the restless sea to admire the unfamiliar sky above. No light pollution muted the scintillating stars that shone in the sky like diamonds cast across a black velvet blanket. Looming among the twinkling starlight above the distant horizon hung a large moon that bathed the twilight landscape in a pale glow the color of polished turquoise.

How did we miss a moon that size? The crew must have seen it after Chris and I left for the engine room. Hard to blame them for not bringing it up, given the circumstances. Still, that is a massive satellite and moving at a significant velocity, by the looks of it. It must have a huge impact on the tidal cycle.

After peeling away his gloves and tugging off his boots, Malik had lain there, quiet as a forgotten ghost, for hours beneath the cloudless sky. He spent most of the night studying the alien constellations that were begging to be charted and named. For a time, he simply relaxed and enjoyed the sight of the moonlight dancing across the gentle waves. Twice he'd seen a flock of winged creatures pass by high overhead, indicating that the planet already supported complex life. He’d seen no signs of animals within the water, but he did hear an occasional splash in the distance that served as a pointed reminder that he was not as isolated as he appeared to be.

Eventually, the horizon had bloomed with the light of a rosy fingered dawn. He’d waited until the rising sun banished the last fragments of gloom clinging to the ocean around him before he finally ended his quiet vigil. After rising to his feet with a stretch that would make a feline proud, he’d liberated a ration bar from the pod's survival kit and retrieved his discarded helmet.

It was time to find out if there was someone, anyone, out there with a working radio.

*****

After hours of trying, fruitlessly, to raise someone on his helmet’s comm, Malik decided it was time to reevaluate his options. He’d been loath to tap into his energy reserves without knowing more about the planet’s weather patterns, but he couldn’t afford to take a weeks long vacation out in the middle of the ocean. He needed to find his crew.

Barring that, he needed to find one of the habitat modules to ascertain the status of the colonists. The modules were packed with gear intended to give humans a fighting chance against an environment far more hostile than the one they’d found themselves in. Seed banks for food, fabrication units for materials, weapons for defense, and compressed fusion reactors for power were only some of the resources that the modules had on tap. With those kinds of tools at his disposal and the right knowledge base among the colonists, they could have communication satellites in orbit and gravfreighters in the sky in a matter of months.

The modules would have landed somewhere dry if possible. The planet looked like it was mostly water, but it can’t be a single, uninterrupted ocean. Malik scowled as he sat down in one of the crash couches. Can it?

Mentally chewing on that thought like an old rottweiler gnawing on a bone, Mal fumbled with one of the overhead panels built into the pod’s ceiling. His fingers scraped at the smooth steel panels trying to find a switch or a hinge. After several moments of searching to no avail, Malik withdrew his hand to study the gleaming steel with a narrow-eyed stare.

I know it's supposed to be right here, he thought with his lips pursed into a thin pale line. Experimentally he struck the panel with the heel of his hand. The quiet thud of his soft strike quickly gave way to a louder thump when he struck the panel again. The next time his arm moved, he’d escalated the conflict from a polite knock against the stubborn steel to an outright assault.

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Malik barely had time to register the sensation of the panel moving beneath his hand before it opened up and dumped the heavy flight manual onto his upturned face.

“My eye!,” the Chief hissed as the hardcover of the manual clattered to the floor. “Mother…”

Malik lifted one foot in an open threat to stomp the insubordinate reference guide while he rubbed at his wounded eye. Thankfully, after blinking the tears away it didn’t appear that there was any real damage done. Other than the wounds to his pride.

You’re a damn lucky book. If you’d put out my eye, I’d have made you walk the plank. Yar.

Malik shook his head in bemusement. Maybe I should reevaluate how long I can function without human contact. I’m less than twelve hours in and I’m already threatening inanimate objects. Out loud. That can’t be a good sign.

He decided to postpone a psych-eval until after he finished launching the lifepod’s reconnaissance drone. Each pod had one. One. So if a squall crashed it into the ocean or a pterodactyl swooped in and snatched it out of the sky, Malik was FUBAR. He hadn’t actually seen any dinosaur’s flying about, but he’d seen something the night before and he’d rather not take any chances just in case they’d landed on the one planet in the universe populated by fire breathing dragons.

To make matters worse, the drones were energy hogs that would suck the pod’s battery pack dry like a vampire latching on to a nubile young virgin. He’d have to deploy the solar screens built into the roof of the pod and carefully manage the juice he used for other processes, like the water filtration system that he’d yet to unpack from the pod’s survival kit.

With all these things being taken into account, its no wonder that Malik was reluctant to play one of his trump cards so early. Ideally he could have raised someone on the radio and tethered his course across the sea to their signal. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he hadn’t been that lucky. In fact, given how much luck he’d used just to escape the Journey as she disintegrated around him, it would probably be prudent not to count on his luck anytime soon.

If ever.

“Alright,” Malik said to himself, indulging a brief bout of insanity by speaking to himself as he toggled the switch that opened the drone bay. “All we’ve got to do now is make sure our monitor is slaved into your camera.” He flipped two pages forward in the manual in his search for the proper sequence. Then he turned a third page only to flip two pages back with a frustrated growl.

“I am going to write a very strongly worded letter to whoever is in charge of this manual’s layout,” Mal grumbled as he followed the sequence laid out by the instructions. In moments one of the pod’s three monitors sparked to life to show a view of the endless ocean from the vantage point of the drone’s hanger.

Malik’s fist pumped once in the air in celebration. “Damn right. I just survived an exploding starship. I'm not about to get beat by a book.” Mal’s voice trailed off as his dark brows knit together in consternation. He looked up at the control panel, then down at the manual, then up again. “Now how do I actually launch this thing,” he murmured as he flipped through the glossy pages.

Finally, after several long minutes and one short, but creative, string of profanity, Malik was one keystroke away from launching the recon drone. “I hereby christen thee, Ayespy. Go forth and find our people.”

With a lopsided grin tugging at his lips, Malik launched the drone.

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