Arrival

Arrival

The small silver craft careened through space in dead silence. The quiet exterior of its teardrop-shaped hull belied a serenity that was missing from the interior. At least five different sirens blared, and lights flashed all over the console and heads-up displays on the bridge.

"X9, silence the alarms, if you would, please!" Endin yelled into the air. A moment later, the only sounds were the rustle of fabric, as he shifted in the console chair, and the ceaseless hum of the drive. That and his heavy breathing, as he did his best not to panic in the face of his crisis.

A sultry soprano voice provided an update. "Alarms have been muted, as you requested."

Endin looked up at the ceiling, as if the target of his ire were located there. "How many times have I told you not to use that voice?"

A smooth male tenor replied, "Apologies. Your wife isn't on the bridge, so I thought you'd appreciate it more. I won't do it again. Probably." How an AI could express a smirk in an audio-only response, Endin couldn't understand, but X9 somehow managed it.

"You're not helping, X9. Where do we stand on acceleration? Will we make it to Faranden on time?"

"Being 'on time' will be somewhat dependent on your wife," X9 continued in its male voice, "but we should reach gravity range within 10 Earth hours and orbit 6 hours later."

Endin cringed. That may not be enough time. "Is there anything we can do to get us there sooner?"

X9's pause was nearly imperceptible. "We could flood the Void Drive, which would boost output by 50%..."

"Do that!" Endin interjected, excitedly.

X9 continued immediately, "…but…that risks taxing the coolant[GU1] , which could cause it to anneal, resulting in the engine overheating. This could lead to catastrophic failure."

"Define catastrophic?" Endin knew the answer.

"Boom,” X9 offered in succinct monotone. “I will avoid adding sound effects."

Endin dropped his head as he responded. "Do it anyway. We'll monitor the coolant and take action before it becomes a problem. We can do that, right?"

"Yes," agreed X9, "but it will be a tight window, if there's any warning at all. Is it still a go?"

"It is," Endin affirmed, sadly cognizant of the risk.

Without preamble, the ship accelerated slowly. Despite being accosted by flashes of red and yellow across the console, he was able to identify the drive output. They'd been at 95%, which was already risky, and the cause of some of the warning lights. Now, that number was climbing about 1% every minute. It would be a while before they made it to 145%, assuming nothing happened in the interim.

With a wait on his hands, Endin turned away from the console to clear his head. A throbbing agony had begun to swell behind his eyes. Closing them, Endin focused on the steady hum of the Void and just breathed, allowing his head to slowly ease to a dull ache. That, unfortunately, left room for reflection, and he couldn’t help remembering what left them rushing to get home.

They hadn’t intended to leave Faranden for at least a month, but his father in-law back on Earth had fallen ill. His wife, Linelia, was stubbornly determined to visit him, and nothing Endin could say would convince her otherwise. Not that he’d even tried. That would have been wasted breath, especially considering her own health needs at that time.

So, they fueled up the drop ship and made the three-day journey to Earth.They said goodbye to her father, tearfully buried him, and told ‘Dad’ stories in memorial. One day into their return trip, Linelia’s condition accelerated, and their two-week window slammed shut.

Endin had convinced himself that the risks of rushing back were lower than arriving late, but he was second guessing that now. His musing turned to regret, and he was about to order X9 to dial back the drive, when X9 spoke first.

"We have achieved 145% maximum recommended drive acceleration. Our new estimate," X9 advised, "is now six hours to gravity, and four hours to orbit."

Within seconds, a new icon lit up like Christmas, and a corresponding alarm rang out. Before Endin could even ask, the alarm muted, replaced by X9, "The cooling gel has crystalized and is already beginning to fracture."

"Shut the engines down!" cried Endin. He hadn’t really needed to yell. X9 would not have let the drive fail waiting for him. The hum of the drive evaporated into silence, and Endin felt momentarily disoriented. A space ship should not be silent on the inside.

After getting his bearings, Endin asked, "Did we lose our advantage?"

X9 would have shaken its head if it had one. "You seem to have forgotten about inertia, sir. And my arrival calculation had been based on the expectation that drive failure would be imminent upon reaching our acceleration goal."

Endin smacked his head in realization. "Thank goodness for AI brains that never lose their cool, even when the Void Drive does."

“What would you do without us,” preened X9, momentarily reverting to its sultry voice. Despite that, Endin chuckled. X9 had spoken the truth. He was no captain. Simply owning a ship didn’t entitle a person to that title, and nearly all drop ships were fully piloted by AI. Endin couldn’t have flown the ship without AI if his life depended on it. And right now, it certainly did.

Endin sighed. The stress of potentially explosive death was causing the hammers to strike the inside of his skull, again. With the situation as improved as it could be, he decided to head to the Med Hall. There was nothing else to do on the bridge for the next six hours anyway.

Endin reached the Med Hall within a few seconds. It wasn’t that large of a ship, despite being nearly as large as a typical house. Taking a bracing breath, he tapped the door open. He was still unprepared for the force that hit him.

Linelia stood beside the door to the bathroom, having just closed it. Her glare nailed Endin to the spot where he stood at the threshold. He waited for her to speak before moving, and his eyes instinctively glanced down at her belly.

To call her round would be to court death. And yet, a seed had gone to fruit within her and was ready for harvest. Endin had avoided the Med Hall, not only because he was trying to get home in time, but because facing his pregnant wife was…undesirable.

“What in the world is going on?!” she asked, disapprovingly, but with deceptive calm. It would have been a mistake for Endin to assume it was a simple question.

“Oh, you mean with the alarms?!” he asked anyway, flinching from the slap of her judgmental stare. “Yeah, well…since we’re running out of time, I instructed X9 to push the Void Drive past its safe limits. We’ve made up time, though, so it turned out okay. We should be in orbit in about 10 hours.”

“You nearly killed us, didn’t you.” She wasn’t asking a question.

“Maybe?”

She gently leaned back into the bed, which was inclined to be more of a chair. Swinging her legs up, she closed her eyes and breathed in. And out. And in. And out. “I will do what I can to keep this baby from coming within the next 10 hours. 12, really, since we need to get to the surface. I know the repercussions if she’s born too soon.” A mixture of physical pain and emotional distress clouded her face.

Faranden had archaic birthright laws. Any child born on the planet was a citizen, as long as their parents were. But any child born off planet, no matter their parents’ citizenship, was not considered a citizen. Only off-world students and scholars were afforded visas of longer than 90 days, and their daughter would be neither, if she was born off planet. Neither Endin nor Linelia had citizenship on any other world, having relinquished their citizenship on Earth. That would mean that if Linelia gave birth anywhere other than Faranden-proper, their daughter and first-born would be planetless, and, by extension, so would Endin and Linelia.

Despite the risk Endin had taken, it was not worth their dying over. Mostly. But they were not wealthy, by any measure. The drop ship was a reward for joining the founding settlement group on Faranden. They may have had the space to live on the ship, but not the means, if their daughter became planetless. Fueling it up to visit the in-laws was an investment that drained their savings.

Endin breathed easier when Linelia finally relaxed. That’s the lie he chose to believe, and he should have known better.

“This is all your fault,” she announced with a cutting strike. “If you had maintained the Med Bot, we wouldn’t have been in this situation. It should have had the software and meds to help delay this agony I’m facing.”

“I didn’t expect to be traveling off planet –“ he tried to defend himself, but she cut him off.

“So, you’re blaming my father now?! That’s low, Endin. You should be ashamed!”

“I’m not…I didn’t…” he stuttered. He lifted his head and sent up a silent prayer to whatever god might be listening.“Your father had nothing to do with my failure. I just expected to have more time. I wanted to get you to your father, so I didn’t do what needed to be done. I’m sorry. I know I should have done it months ago.”

Linelia closed her eyes and breathed again before speaking. “I know. I’m sorry too. You don’t know how hard this is, but I should give you the benefit of the doubt. A lot has happened.”

“Thank you,” Endin bowed. “I appreciate you. You’re being so strong –“ She arrested his overzealous flattery with a raised hand.

“Shut up. I don’t need that right now.” She pointed to the chair next to the bed. “You can appreciate me by coming and sitting with me…silently.”

They sat together quietly, each drifting off periodically, and Linelia wincing in pain at regular intervals. Her water hadn’t broken, so that was a good sign.

After 6 hours, X9 finally broke into their quiet. “Excuse me, sir, but we’ve reached gravity acceleration and are picking up speed, even if only minutely at the moment.”

Linelia looked pointedly at Endin. Nodding understanding, he replied to X9, “Continue coasting until we have no choice but to slow down. That should shave another hour off our time, right? Then you can initiate Decel Protocols. Also, prepare to bypass orbit and execute a hard burn to the surface.”

Endin heard a subtle edge of approval in X9’s reply, “They’re not going to like that.”

“I’m not going to give them a choice,” he growled. Linelia squeezed his hand in solidarity.

“Aye, Aye Captain.”

The silence of the Void Drive was eventually replaced by the thrum of the Decel Drive, which thankfully had its own cooling system.

As they approached communication range, Endin made his way to the bridge, where he was waiting for the next shoe to drop.

When it became obvious that their trajectory was surface-bound, Planetary Starship Command finally made themselves known. Endin’s view screen flicked on to show a stiff military officer. Her tone was sharp as she spoke. “This is PSC to X9DS1227. I hate to be blunt, but…what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Direct and to the point, thought Endin. He replied in kind, “X9DS1227 to PSC, we have a medical emergency and require immediate access to health facilities upon landing, which will be in…” pausing, he looked at the console, “90 minutes.”

“We have medical facilities in the orbital platforms,” the PSC officer countered. “You can dock there. Please course correct and we’ll open up a docking port.”

“I’m unable to comply, PSC.” A gasp escaped from the PSC officer, at Endin’s audacity.

Endin had chosen not to play the pregnancy card yet. The likelihood that PSC would be unsympathetic was high. They weren’t typically hired for their humanitarian tendencies. They were expected to take the rules more seriously than they took travelers.

“As a founding settler of Faranden, I expect you to provide me with a docking berth on the planet,” Endin demanded.

“You and 100,000 others, mister,” she replied tersely. “If I bend the rules for one of you, I end up changing the rules for all of you. Now course correct your ship, or I’ll be forced to send an escort to do it for you.”

Endin was running out of time. Lowering his voice to a near whisper, he leaned into the camera. “Please,” he begged. “My wife is currently in labor. It’s critical that we make it to the surface for delivery. As a fellow citizen of Faranden, please tell me you understand.”

The line was dead for no less than 30 seconds before the PSC officer responded, with a gentleness that was shocking. “Understood. Landing pad 15 is available and prepped. Staff will be waiting to escort you to the health facility. PSC out.” It seemed that Endin had misjudged. It wasn’t just civilians who understood the existential dilemma Endin and Linelia faced. Endin let out the breath he’d been holding.

The hard burn made for a bumpy re-entry, but they made it to the pad in one piece. Linelia nearly eviscerated him. She wasn’t in any shape to be getting tossed about His ears were still ringing as they made their way to the airlock, and a bruise was already starting to form on his arm.

When they exited the drop ship, the waiting medical staff quickly assisted Linelia to a delivery gurney, and both of them breathed slightly easier that they’d made it in time.

Endin gave her a kiss before they began rolling her away, but she grabbed his wrist immediately. “Oh no, mister. You couldn’t experience my pregnancy or the cruelty of the last nine hours, but you’re going to experience the pain of child birth, one way or another.“ She squeezed his wrist by way of example, and he nearly dropped from the agony.

She continued gripping him all the way to delivery, if a bit less painfully. He was okay with that. They’d made it, and it was going to be okay.