Francis smiled with satisfaction and patted the young pilot on his shoulder. “Excellent. Excellent. Say, Mr. O’Neil—how would you like to visit an alien planet?”
Not long after Ed Spratt retreated to the control deck, Amila Santana emerged through the transparent door of her office, Phobos trailing behind her. Captain Carter was standing with his hands folded behind his back, close to the panoramic view of the planet’s horizon. He nodded his head toward her reflection. “Welcome to 1999, Miss Santana. I hope you didn’t stay up all night.”
“Not quite,” replied the operations chief tersely. Though Lamont had often seen her demonstrate agitation, she never lacked composure, and if she was sleep-deprived, it didn’t show. Her uniform was perfectly straight, and not a strand of her silver-streaked hair was out of place.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” the captain continued. “After all, much of the space elevator’s design was contributed by you, was it not?”
“I had a lot of help,” Amila demurred, glancing at Phobos.
Phobos dipped his large head to acknowledge the compliment, making his way to the control console, where he leaned high over Rex’s shoulder to observe its settings. “We are in geosynchronous orbit,” he observed.
“Holding steady, sir,” The young pilot acknowledged. “Ready when you are.”
The captain smiled, lifting a finger. “Very well,” he said. “Anchor away.”
Rex took a deep breath, settling into the back of his seat and lifting a small cap on his console that concealed a jeweled button and a toggle switch. Abigail’s black eyes watched Rex’s hands intently as he pushed the toggle switch. The button’s surface flashed three times before glowing a steady green. “Propellant engaged. Deploying in three...two...one.”
Rex pushed the button down firmly. Lamont felt a distinct vibration beneath his feet. Through the transparent wall at the front of the deck, all eyes watched the conical projection that emerged from the circular cutout in the center of the long gray hull that stretched out overhead. There was a puff of white smoke, and the gleaming metal object, shaped something like a ten-foot spinning top, suddenly shot downward like a bullet, quickly disappearing out of sight. Where it had been, Lamont could now see the blue-tinted, heavily shielded underside of the doughnut-shaped space lift.
“Anchor away,” Rex exhaled. “Impact in one hundred-ninety seconds.”
“Let’s hope there’s nobody nearby,” Lamont remarked. He was seated on the bench in front of the console, smoking his third cigarette since he’d arrived on the command deck.
“The spectrometers would have picked up any creature larger than, say, a rabbit,” Abigail assured him. “Unless it’s cold-blooded, of course.”
Rex nodded grimly. “A lizard person might be out of luck.”
Lamont tapped a few notes on his recorder. “That would be an unfortunate first impression.”
Carter changed the subject. “How are the preparations coming, chief?”
Amila had made her way to the situation table at the rear of the control console, where her dark eyes watched the televiewer intently. “On schedule, captain,” she said. “However, our weather prediction models have not proven as accurate as we had hoped.”
Carter turned his head from the view momentarily. “How accurate are they?”
“On average, 74%,” Santana answered.
The captain shrugged. “That should be sufficient for our purposes. We’ll have time to improve upon it for longer expeditions in the future.”
“Sixty seconds to impact,” Rex said.
“There’s one other thing, you should know,” Amila said. “George White, the geologist, has declined to join the expedition.”
Carter sputtered, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Declined?”
Santana nodded.
Lamont could see that Francis was genuinely surprised, his brow furrowing as he tried to grasp how such a thing could be possible.
“Why?” The captain finally asked. “Did he give a reason?”
Amila shrugged slightly. “He read the mission brief and didn’t feel up to it. It is his choice to make.”
Carter shook his head. “That sort of thing should have come up in his psychological screening years ago,” he said, beginning to pace.
“Thirty seconds,” said Rex.
“Mr. White was selected for his scientific expertise,” Amila explained, keeping her tone even. “His skills are invaluable in the laboratory.”
Carter waved his hand dismissively. “Rex, you know a thing or two about rocks, don’t you?”
“Yessir,” Rex acknowledged, watching his readouts intently. “I joined some geological studies back in Utah. Ten seconds.”
Lamont had stood up, joining the captain as he circled around the back of the console. All eyes were now on the televiewer, watching a grainy view of the planet’s surface below from the ship’s underside cameras. Lamont saw nothing except the splotchy gray outlines of terrain.
“Five seconds,” Rex said, his voice tense with anticipation. “Four. Three. Two.”
On the screen, a small white cloud suddenly appeared dead center. Indicators flashed on Rex’s console. A few seconds later, the floor of the command deck rumbled palpably beneath their feet.
“Anchor is in place,” Rex exhaled. “Connection is confirmed.”
Francis, who was now standing beside Phobos at the back of Rex’s seat, smiled with satisfaction and patted the young pilot on his shoulder. “Excellent. Excellent. Say, Mr. O’Neil—how would you like to visit an alien planet?”
Rex, snapping out of his intense focus, nearly fell out of his chair.
“Would I, sir!” He exclaimed.
Wordlessly, Amila Santana turned on her heel and left the command deck.
Next: Epiphany Day