Vacation
A story in the round written by members of
SFNovelist.com, June 2009
Edited by Victory Crayne
Branson scanned the sky for any signs of an inbound. With the horizon being only two klicks away and the asteroid turning every two standard hours, he had to check often. His beacon had power for only ten minutes so he had to be sure where he aimed it and when. Their planned pick up was four hours overdue, without explanation.
Maggie sat with her arms crossed, her back resting on the edge of a microcrater. "Is this far enough away from civilization to please you? You and your vacations!"
Before he could reply, one of the stars twinkled.
Branson aimed the beacon at that star and turned it on. "At last! They should be here within an hour to get us."
Maggie stood slowly to look, careful not to overpower the weak gravity. "It's about time. You and your damned, 'Let's really get away this time.' I hope you're happy. I'm miserable."
"Watching the whole universe pass by in brilliant color every few hours, and Jupiter hanging there so huge and imposing, I think it's spectacular."ť
A silhouette of the approaching ship slowly crossed the disk of Jupiter. Startled, Branson bounced nearly ten feet off the surface. "Something's wrong! That's not our ship."ť
There was no need for the beacon. It was coming right for their asteroid. As the brilliant kaleidoscope of stars wheeled overhead, Branson realized the ship would touch down right on their camp.
The growing shape eclipsed enough of Jupiter’s glare to reveal details at last. Branson stared. “Uh, Maggie. It’s got no lights on—and I think it’s upside down.”
She didn’t even look up, until the shadow covered her. “Branson? What’s wrong with it?”
“Maggie, grab my hand. We gotta go—now!”
Maggie stared up. Even from this distance, the hole was visible.
Was that a figure, waving?
The derelict plunged toward them, a gaping hole in it's midsection, hit the asteroid a glancing blow, and caromed off into space. The force of the blow sent the asteroid out of its orbit and to what destination, no one knew.
"Oh, God! Branson, do something," Maggie wailed.
God, that woman, does she ever quit whining? Branson looked up toward the receding derelict and wondered what happened to it. And where was their pick up shuttle?
"Branson, it's starting to come back here!"
The ship circled to the right, the asteroid's rotation adjusted, and the next thing they knew they were locked in an orbit around the derelict.
Branson ignored Maggie's hysterics for the time being and took some quick sightings on Jupiter, Vega, and the Sun. His suit's onboard computer did the calculation and flashed the new orbital track on his heads up display.
He cursed under his breath. The derelict had shifted the asteroid's orbit, all right. And now the combined effect of the ship's mass and the asteroid's own weak gravity was pushing them off of the ecliptic. Even if their shuttle showed up, they'd be so far out of their original orbit that they'd never be found.
"Branson, look!" shouted Maggie, pointing toward the derelict.
Branson followed her pointing finger and saw once again the figure of a person leaning out of the hole in the ship's hull. The figure waved frantically at them. Something about it was strangely familiar.
"That looks like the pilot of the shuttle that brought us out," Branson said, scarcely believing what he was seeing. "What the hell's he doing in that thing?"
The eccentricity of the orbit was bringing the derelict and asteroid temporarily closer together before they parted ways forever on their separate paths. His suit's built-in radar ranging device was feeding data to his on-board computer which flashed an estimated closest approach of 150 meters in about forty minutes.
Maggie began sobbing. The warning was flashing on her heads-up that only four hours of oxygen remained in their excursion suits.
"This doesn't make sense!" she complained. "We should have enough oxidizer to generate breathable air for another two days! Mine says only four hours."
He hadn't noticed it before, but his heads-up display also flashed four hours. Something wasn't right. "Mine too. Before the ship collided with the asteroid, it read two days of oxygen left. I swear. Check your suit."
While she checked her suit, he examined his own. He pulled out an oxy-strip and ran it over the fabric. The paper remained white. Good.
Before she answered, he heard a voice chanting in his headset. "Do you hear that?"
"Branson, do you read?" The voice repeated itself, monotonously.
It took Branson a few seconds to realize it was a clip from the sender's suit radio that would play repeatedly until answered.
"Branson Mitchell," interrupted Branson. "Who's this?"
"Shut off your oxidizer and switch to canisters!" exclaimed an exited voice. "Now!"
"Carter Desai? Is that you? Where's your shuttle?"
Carter's voice was excited, tired. "Shuttle's gone, taken over by...something. It's attracted to the oxidizers. Sucked my ship dry, except what was in the pod. Commandeered this piece of junk a miner left behind. But I can't control it...much."
“Branson?” Maggie interrupted.
“Not now! This is important! Our lives are in danger—heck the whole human race is in danger. Let us handle this!” His mind raced. What were his options? He had not planned for anything like this. It was supposed to be just a quick excursion to watch a fancy light show, albeit one rarely seen by human eyes. Now Maggie’s incessant chattering was making his head hurt. “Carter? Was anyone else with you?”
“Branson, honey,” Maggie tried again, “I think you left the beacon on.” She pointed at the flashing light. “Isn’t the battery almost dead?”
Klaxons erupted in the earphones of Branson and Maggie. The faceplate viewers went dark and their chairs swiveled the two of them into an upright position. Maggie grabbed Branson’s hand.
“I’m sorry, honey,” she said softly. “ I know how much you wanted this.”
“It’s not your fault. The level was too high. That was my fault.”
The sound of a large door sliding open interrupted his final thought.
“Mission failure. You were not successful,” droned a computer-generated voice.
“Would you like to try again?” Maggie asked, squeezing Branson’s hand, though she knew the answer.
They eased out of the training simulator and moved unhurriedly to the debriefing office.
Maggie was angry. “That was supposed to be a holiday experience,” she complained.
The Controller showed no sign of remorse. “Even when relaxing, you have to be remain alert. You can betray yourselves at any time. And you didn’t cope. You didn’t show sufficient signs of fear and panic.”
“I tried,” protested Maggie.
“We didn’t reveal our identities,” Branson defended.
“But you would have done.” The Controller’s voice was harsh. “When you didn’t die from lack of oxygen. The Earthlings would then know you were spies.”
The End