Captain Cosette (14 page)

One of her screens showed a tracing of their path since hitting atmosphere overlaid on a map of the southern hemisphere. 
“This isn’t working out.”

“
What do you mean?” asked Alena.

“
Our circle.  Look here, this is the landing strip.  This map shows the landing strip Major Dyson mentioned, but it runs east-west, and we’ll be coming in from the south.  We need to straighten out when we reach an east-west heading, go straight until we're past the runway, and then do the other half circle so we can line up to land.”

Elena shook her head. 
“Can’t do that.  We’re dropping too fast.  Without the plasma core online, the engines don’t have enough power.  We’re going to drop into the ocean.”

“
Well, that’s good, right?” said Rasora.  “We can all swim, right?”

“
You stupid fool,” said Garale with acid.  “Without the core running, we won’t have enough thrust to slow us down.  When you hit water doing over 300 kilometers per hour, you might as well hit concrete.  Congratulations,
Captain
Cosette!” he shouted.  “You’ve killed us all!”

Chapter Nine

Cosette unbuckled her harness, trying to control waves of anger, frustration, and desperation.  If Garale had been piloting, they would all be dead by now.  She had not done anything stupid yet, but she was rapidly running out of options.

“
Where are you going?” asked Alena.

“
I’ve got to restart the plasma core.”

“
But you said we’ve been damaging it.  We can’t restart it in space, anyway.”

“
You can’t restart it in space, but we’re not in space anymore.”  Cosette stood up.  “We’re in atmosphere.  I think I can do a manual restart.  If we can get even a few minutes of life from it, we can finish our turnaround.”

She staggered to the rear of the cabin, fighting the shaking floor and the disorienting shriek of the wind.

“Need help?” asked Dyson.

“
It’s too late to help,” said Garale.  “We’re all dead.”

“
Shut your mouth,” said Rasora with a twitch of the gun for emphasis.

“
I don’t know.”  Cosette unlocked the access door to the engine room, but it wouldn’t open.  “We’re too high for it to open.”  She stepped back to her station and started the cabin pressure lowering.  “Sorry, but everybody’s ears are going to start popping.”

“
It’s unfortunate the door opens inward,” said Dyson.

“
It was designed to withstand vacuum.  It should open when I get cabin pressure down, but then, until we get below 4000 meters, we’re all going to suffer from lack of oxygen.”  She pressed her hands against her temples.  “I can’t believe the stuff that comes out of my mouth!”

“
My ears popped.”  Rasora opened his mouth and rubbed his ears. 

“
5000 meters and dropping fast,” called Alena.

“
Let’s get this open before we black out,” said Cosette.

She grabbed the door handle, but Dyson moved her hands aside. 
“Let me.”   He gripped the handle and pulled.  The door opened a crack, the wind howled, and it slammed shut again.

“
Don’t get your foot caught in the door or you’ll lose it,” warned Cosette.

“
4500 meters,” shouted Alena.

“
Let me try that again.”  Dyson planted his foot against the bulkhead, bent his back, and heaved.  The door suddenly opened, cabin pressure plummeted, and the scream of the wind became so loud no voices could be heard.  He latched the door open, and Cosette stepped to the open doorway, wind whipping her short hair.

A long rent in the side of the fuselage was the source of the noise.  Missile shrapnel had ripped open the engine compartment, and the ragged edges were vibrating too fast to be seen.  Only the
ship’s reinforced armor hull was holding it together.

Cosette
took a step forward.  Suddenly Dyson’s arm circled around her waist.  At the same moment, the swirling wind picked up her feet and tugged her towards the opening.

I
would
have
been
sucked
out
of
the
cruiser
.

Don’t
think
about
it
. 
Don’t
think
about
it
. 
Don’t
…

Dyson had his other arm wrapped around a stanchion, anchoring both of them.  Directly overhead was stored one canister of the modified hydrogen gas that would restart the plasma chamber.  The scream of the wind was so loud
that she couldn’t tell Dyson what she needed; she would have to indicate it and hope he understood.

She reached up her arms towards the canister storage, and Dyson lifted her easily. 

I’ve
never
felt
such
strong
arms
around
my
waist
before
. 

How
can
I
think
about
that
at
a
time
like
this
?

She clawed open the storage and pulled out the cylinder.

Mustn’t
let
the
cylinder
get
sucked
out
. 
If
I
do
,
I
can’t
restart
the
core
and
we’ll
all
be
smashed
into
….

Don’t
think
about
it
. 
Don’t
think
about
it
. 
Don’t
…

She inverted the canister, pushed the nozzle into the port attached to the plasma chamber, and screwed the canister in.  She heard a hiss the last few turns, an indication that the canister was feeding the chamber.

She pointed to the other side.  There was no way to walk to the other side, not with that wind sucking out anything loose, but maybe she could reach over while Dyson held on to her.

Her fingers came close to the other storage latch, but not quite. 

I
can’t
reach
the
other
cylinder
–
can
I
restart
the
core
with
only
one
? 

She didn’t think so.  Her knowledge said that to restart the core away from the space station, one needed to attach two cylinders of the modified hydrogen.

She stretched desperately, and her fingertips just brushed against the storage. 

So
close
…

Two jointed metal arms reached up from the far side of the chamber, opened the storage, and extracted the cylinder.  A pair of lenses popped up on a flexible neck and stared at her.

“Spinner!” she shouted, but the wind blew her words away.  She pointed downward, hoping the robot would understand what she wanted. 

What
is
Spinner
doing
here
?

The robot didn’t move, so she pointed down again and mimicked turning something with her hands.

The lenses nodded and dropped out of sight.  Spinner’s flexible legs inverted the cylinder and lowered it down on his side.  Moments later the lenses rose again and dipped up and down.

I
can
only
hope
. 

She pointed to the wall beside the open door, and Dyson pulled her in closer.

She pressed her hand against the button that would restart the core, praying that the power drain of descending from orbit hadn’t eroded the core beyond use. 

The light over the button changed from red to green.

Success
!

She had no way to measure the damage to the core, no way to tell whether they would be good for hours or minutes.  It could fail at any time.

She looked out the rent in the wall, and to her horror saw the ocean.  They were mere seconds from destruction.

She frantically pointed back into the cabin, and Dyson pulled her from the screaming cyclone of the engine room and got her firmly anchored.  He unlatched the open door and let it slam shut.

The noise dropped dramatically, and she could hear her own voice again.  “I think it worked.”

“
We’ve got propulsion!” shouted Alena.  The cruiser shuddered and began accelerating.

Cosette
pulled her way forward and sat in the pilot’s chair.  There, on the screens, was the evidence of success.  They were gaining altitude, and beginning the final bank. 

“
I can’t believe she still flies,” said Alena, making the slow left turn towards the landing strip.  “I saw that hole in the side.  How did you know to get the core restarted?”

Cosette
wiped her brow.  She felt nauseous.  “Long story.”

I
can’t
fall
apart
yet
. 
We’re
still
flying
on
a
prayer
and
a
miracle
.

Why
did
Spinner
stow
away
? 
We wouldn’t have survived if he hadn’t.

“
We’re lined up,” said Alena.  “Sensors are picking up signs of the strip; it might still be intact.”

Garale spoke up again. 
“If you’ve got power, you don’t have to fly it in!  Just use the engines for lift and do a vertical landing.  Nothing to it!”

“
He’s right,” said Alena, lifting the nose up and increasing braking thrust to slow them down.  “We don’t need….”

A sudden silence and a feeling of weightlessness told the awful news: the plasma chamber had failed for good.  They had gotten past the ocean, but they were coming in cold and fast.

Cosette switched her monitors to landing display.  The forward camera picked up the image of the landing strip, but it was dark and so shaky it was hard to make out.  “Wouldn’t you know, it’s night time.”  She switched to infrared, and the strip became clearer.

“
We’ve got no lift from the thrusters so we’ve got to go in fast or we’ll drop like a stone,” said Alena.  “Don’t lower the gear until the last moment.”

Cosette
took the wheel.  “You lower the gear, I’ll bring us in.”  According to the manuals in her head, it was the pilot’s job to land; the copilot was to manage the rest.  She trusted the knowledge; it had brought them this far.  Still, it was scary, like having someone else moving her hands.

Alena didn’t argue. 
“Yes, Sir.”

Cosette
lowered the nose, trying to keep their velocity up.  “These controls feel like mush.  The ailerons must be sledge hammered.”

The
more
velocity
we
have
,
the
more
level
our
landing
can
be
,
if
our
wheels
can
hold
up
. 
Assuming
we
still
have
wheels
. 

Pray
for
no
crosswind
. 
Pray
for
a
soft
landing
. 
Pray
that
the
runway
is
empty
. 
Pray
that
my
stomach
will
just
shut
up
.

“
Over the runway now and dropping fast.”  Alena lifted a cover and threw a switch.  “Landing gear down, what’s left of them.”

“
Don’t say that,” said Cosette, feeling the cruiser shake even more as the landing gear extended.

A breath, a wish, and then the rumbling thump of the wheels hitting pavement.  The cruiser bottomed out, bounced once, and thumped down again.  It shook violently but kept rolling
forward.

“
Bless those polymer wheels,” whispered Cosette.  The main wheels under the stubby wings were stronger than the nose wheels and designed to take brutal landings.

“
Don’t let the nose come down!” shouted Alena, but despite Cosette’s frantic pulling of the wheel, the nose dropped.  The cruiser was too badly damaged to keep its nose pitched properly while it lost speed.

The front wheel strut was mounted directly below the pilot’s cabin. 
Cosette felt the wrenching thud as the front wheels hit the pavement, the vibrating feedback as the front wheels tore themselves apart, and the sickening snap as the wheel assembly shattered.  The nose of the cruiser dropped and the fuselage began dragging on the pavement. 

The friction was bleeding away speed, but
Cosette no longer had any control over the cruiser.  The nose drifted sideways, the rear wheel assembly buckled, and the cruiser collapsed flat on its underbelly, still doing well over a hundred kilometers an hour.