My Diary

2002-11-11

Things are starting to happen. We've just slowed for our first course correction.

[break]

Second course correction. And, guess what ---- Base orbits a binary star. One big red one, one small white one.

[break]

And here comes the planet!

First impressions: it's close to the star ---- stars ---- and it's blue and white. This suggests an Earth-like planet with water. Cool. I was dreading another rock like Gurglecough.

[pause]

The planet's slowly growing in the window.

I say slowly, but we must be going at a hell of a lick. It's doubled in size in half an hour or so, which means we must be going at a small fraction of light speed. I see why Gurglecough insisted on traffic control; if this ship hit a planet at this speed, it would make quite a dent.

Interesting that Base doesn't have any, though.

Hmm. Perhaps the ship's using it's FTL drive? In which case it's entirely feasible that our real relative velocity is actually quite small... oh, hell, I don't know.

[pause]

The planet's big enough to make out details now.

God, it's beautiful.

I never got a good look at Earth. When we took off I had other things on my mind, and the front of the ship was pointing up in any case. But I can see why astronauts spend so much time staring out the window.

[pause]

A photo wouldn't do this justice.

The planet's occupying about half the window now. It's not a planet any more; it's a world. It has depth. The day side is a fantastic oceanic blue, marked with pale green, swirled with cloud. The night side is a thick black, blocking out the stars, with odd streaks of very faint crimson and purple. There's a big hurricane in what, for the sake of argument, I'll call the southern hemisphere. Where it crosses into the night side I can see the continuous flicker of lightning. Small ice caps at the poles; it's summer in the `northern' hemisphere.

[pause]

The ship's changed course. We're no longer heading directly for the planet but towards the horizon. This relieves me.

The planet is filling the window now... the ship's rotated around its long axis so that the ground is below me, and the curved horizon is very slowly flattening out. I can make out distinct cloud formations; huge stacks of cumulus towering up into the sky, each of which is underpinned by a crimson-bordered shadow. (From the twin suns, no doubt.) The ocean is shining like polished metal with blood spilt on it. It looks amazing.

I haven't seen any land yet. Can this planet be completely covered in water? Where are we going?

[pause]

Slight turbulence. We must have hit the atmosphere.

My god! I'm actually touching another planet! It's only a couple of hundred kilometres away now!

I can start to hear a gentle sighing noise above the faint whisper of the ventilation system.

[pause]

Actually, I was expecting the reentry to be more exciting than that.

In hindsight, though, if this ship has enough power to blaze out of Earth's gravity well, carry me halfway round the galaxy, turn round, carry me halfway back again, and power through a star system at 0.1 c, then I expect it has enough power to decelerate out of orbit before going through the atmosphere, rather than slamming through and letting friction slow it. A much better way to travel.

We're skimming through the air at a fair altitude. It looks just like the view from a passenger jet back home, although the window's rather less grubby. The sky is a clean, crisp blue.

No sign of land yet. Also, the ship is gently meandering from side to side, banking in one direction and then the other. I hope it knows where it's going.

[pause]

Much lower now. The ship is manoeuvering to avoid cumulus stacks. Can't think why.

Good view, though.

[pause]

Land ho!

There's a small island up ahead. Green ground, white buildings, hilly. That must be where we're going.

Can't get a good view. Keeps getting blocked out by cloud.

[pause]

We're under the cloud now. The island's much closer.

It seems to be a few kilometres across. Woodlands, the glint of water, shining white buildings. There's a big tower near one end...

Good grief.

It's tall with a big ball at the top, like a lollipop. I can just make out some kind of electrical discharge off the top of it, blue lightning. Like a van der Graaf generator. If I can see it from here, it must be quite something close up.

I think the island's got reefs. Some pale blue structure stretches underwater some distance away from the island.

It all looks so normal.

[pause]

The ship appears to be heading for a headland at one end of the island. There's a couple of buildings and something that looks like a concrete landing pad. I don't see any other ships there, but those buildings might be hangars, or there might be underground storage.

Okay, I'll admit it: I don't see any sign of people. Anywhere. No boats on the water, no air traffic, nobody on the beaches, no pedestrians, no vehicles. Admittedly, no roads, and no doubt my human prejudices are showing, but I would expect to see some sign of activity.

Perhaps the base is deserted? This ship is an unscheduled flight...

[pause]

We're landing.

The ship overflew the landing field and came to a complete halt in midair, and now it's descending vertically like an elevator. Frustratingly, the nose is pointing out to sea, and I'm getting a really good view of the surf. It's good surf, but we have good surf on Earth.

(There are sea birds of several different kinds, some of which look heartstoppingly like seagulls.)

Okay. The ground's coming up. Bushes, grass, scrub...

Here's the landing pad...

We're down. Very smooth landing, no bumps.

[indeterminate noises]

The hatch is opening! I'm out of here.

[background sound]

Wow. That air is so good... I hadn't realised the ship was so stuffy.

I'm standing on the landing field. It is concrete. There's no one around. The white buildings are larger than I thought, a few hundred metres off. The hills rise up against the horizon... I can see the van der Graaf generator beyond the crest, crackling away.

[pause]

It's so quiet. Bird noises, wind noises, trees... no machinery, no voices.

I'm walking slowly across the landing field. This place is deserted. There's absolutely no-one around. No welcome party. No anxious officials sprinting across the tarmac. No parked vehicles for the people at work. It's as if...

[indeterminate noises]

What the...

[indeterminate noises]

Damn! Damn damn damn damn!

Come back!

Ah, hell.

The ship's just taken off. Without me. It's abandoned me here!

Shit.

Shit.

[break]

Calmer now. Still pissed off.

At least I knew the ship could feed me. Now I'm stuck here on this apparently deserted island, hundreds of light years from home, with nothing to eat, nowhere to sleep, no-one to talk to... no idea of which local plants are poisonous, or carnivorous, or both... hell.

I've walked around the landing field. There does not seem to be any underground parking.

I've walked around the two white buildings. They are completely featureless, and I mean completely featureless. They're seamless white boxes. The grass, which looks like perfectly normal grass, grows right up to their bases. If I tap them, they feel solid. One's about fifty metres long and ten high, the other's a bit smaller.

I suppose there might be a ship in one of them. If there is, it's not going to be any use to me.

Hell. What do I do now?

I know. I'm going to sit here on the grass, lean against one of these featureless white buildings, and attempt to make myself calm again.

Hey ---- something's just occurred to me. At least I know the air's breathable.

[transmit]