“I know, I know. I hate to say it, but I don't think it matters where we go, from the looks this virus is hitting everywhere.”
“I'm never buying another AI,” Jason pledged.
The Silkstream began to shake violently, the lights and control systems went out. Backup pilot systems kicked in but when Oz checked the thruster status he shook his head. “We're falling free, so we're past the possibility of burning up. Now we just have to worry about getting tossed like a meat salad when we hit.”
Jason's teeth clacked together as they hit turbulence and he cringed. “You have a real way with words. The chutes should deploy in a sec.”
The craft shook and began to turn. The blue sky came into view and as they watched the altimeter count down from 22,467 meters both of them started to get nervous.
“Can the chutes deploy if we're going backwards?” Oz asked.
“I don't know! It didn't say! Is there any chance of survival if we just hit? I mean, I went through officer training, but I didn't do too well on emergency measures in the pilot's seat.”
“Basic physics here, we hit the ground going two hundred fifty kilometres an hour and they'll find nothing but chewy center. At that speed we'll redefine the term; 'splat.'”
“Aren't you just mister bright side.”
“Is there an emergency release for these chutes or something?”
“I don't know, the detailed specs were on my command and control unit and in the computer, ones fried, the other one only has emergency power. But there's a gyro, it's blinking green, that's got to be good,” Jason pointed to a backlit indicator on the control console.
Oz pointed to the altimeter, which read 12,209, and said; “at least it'll be quick if that's a bum reading. Terminal velocity has to be a little faster on this world than what we're used to.”
An ear piercing triple pop filled the small cabin and the heavy weave parachutes launched from the front of the ship, filling their view with the welcome sight of billowing cloth. They were pressed violently into the backs of their seats.
Both of them were quiet for a long moment, staring up at the deployed parachutes, the thin, strong lines extending out to them.
“I wonder what the weather's like?” Oz asked calmly.
“Looks sunny.”
The ship drifted down through the air slowly for what seemed to be several minutes in silence. Both jumped as several sharp, high pitched impacts sounded against the hull. They ceased as suddenly as they began.
“We're in trouble.” Jason concluded. “Do you think those lines could take a few hits?”
“Sounds like small arms fire, the hull should take it and even if those rounds put holes in the parachutes we'll be fine.”
“What about the lines holding the parachutes?”
“Did you happen to see what they're made of?”
“Nope.”
“Your guess is as good as mine. Their chances of hitting them are pretty slim though. What we really have to worry about is what's waiting for us on the ground.”
“You're a real barrel of laughs, you know that?”
Oz released the straps on his seat and dropped backwards out of it carefully.
“Where are you going?” Jason asked.
“Making sure our gear is ready.”
“Mine's the dark green bag.”
“I know, is that all you've got for this trip?”
“I didn't exactly take time to pack. You wouldn't happen to have an extra rifle?”
“I didn't exactly get a chance to pack.” Oz replied. “We'll have to use the standard issue automatic rifles from the ship stores. Good thing Ayan and your wife took the time to pack things properly.”
“What about our sidearms? They have as much or more punch than those Freeground A7's.”
“Sure they do, but we don't have a clip bag for each. Besides, the rifles have four times the range.”
“Good point.”
“Just remember to-”
“-squeeze the trigger, don't pull it. I know, I know.”
The whole ship jostled suddenly and Jason's eyes went wide at what he saw. “Oz! You'd better strap in!”
“Why what-” he stopped mid sentence as he turned to look up and saw that their parachutes were gone. “Holy hell! What happened?”
“Looked like a small single wing plane just ran right through our parachutes!”
Oz could barely hear the last bit of Jason's sentence as several pops sounded all around the ship. “That's not gunfire! What is it?”
“It's the inflation systems for the balloons. We're going bouncing.”
Oz hurriedly strapped himself into the rear most seat in the Silkworm IV and looked back up to the cockpit in time to see it covered by the dark brown material of the emergency landing balloons. “How high up are we?”
“About nine hundred meters and counting. Hang on!” Jason shouted as he sealed his vacsuit and activated the impact systems.
Oz did the same reflexively. “You know, they have a whole unit on crash landings in marine training. They scared the hell out of us to make the real thing more manageable.”
“Did it work?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Nope!”
The impact came before he was ready, but the emergency impact systems in his vacsuit compensated just enough. The sudden jostling and uncontrolled rolling and bouncing of the craft gave him an instant headache, made him feel like his stomach was in his throat, he could taste what remained of the ration he'd had that afternoon all over again and he tried as hard as he could to hold his arms tightly crossed over his chest so they wouldn't flail wildly.
When they came to a stop both of them just sat there for a moment, amazed that they were still in one piece. “I think I swallowed my lunch four times.” Jason groaned as he undid the straps to his seat and abruptly fell to the ceiling. “We're upside down!” he called out. “Just so you know.”
“I know. I don't think I'll have the Fettuccine ration pack for a while, doesn't taste so good on the rerun.” Oz said as he carefully lowered himself down and made his way to Jason.
The small ship had managed to keep her hatches, cupboards and compartments closed despite the barely controlled crash landing.
“Everything still where it's supposed to be? Anything broken?” Oz asked.
“Yup, you?”
“Ready for whatever's waiting out there. Here's hoping there's someone friendly.”
A Sunny Morning
Liam couldn't help but admit that he was beginning to enjoy his time aboard the Triton. Over the past nine days the ship had spent on its slow movement along the outer edge of the bright nebula most of the crew had started making themselves at home. The few civilians that were left after most of them found jobs as crewmembers were opening up shop, starting to mix with the more military minded people aboard and that was partly thanks to him.
He had taken it upon himself to make suggestions to department heads about several activities the crew members could engage in to not only mix with the few dozen civilians aboard but to make the Triton a real home. The botanical section of the ship was a great help, many enjoyed strolling down the larger hallways beside the broad planters, vertical gardens on the walls and on through the large center, where full trees were planted and
