John’s Perspective
I hated being bored.
That was the worst part of my particular profession. It was a constant hurry up and wait. These seven days were awful; cabin fever had set in 48 hours when we left Earth, and we’ve been in a series of tin cans between then and now, so I didn’t get my cabin fever out of my system.
It was an occupational disease. Every one of my team members had it bad.
“Hey, John, catch!” one of them shouted. I looked just in time to see a small zip-lock baggy filled with bullets and air flying towards me. A few people flinched as we started tossing it around, but that was a false fear. There was almost no chance of the bullets going off, and if they did, the brass wasn’t contained, so the bullets wouldn’t go anywhere. Not really.
“Relax, everyone,” I said as I caught the makeshift ball and lobbed it back across the room. “It’s just a bit of harmless fun.”
Throwing the “ball” around seemed to keep us sane. Even a few of the eggheads joined in. Without warning, the rocket lurched and tilted, making me nauseated, as the ball flew away in a random direction.
“Whoa!” I cried out, grabbing onto the armrest.
One of the eggheads mumbled something as he scrambled to his seat and tore at his tablet with more calm and poise than I’d ever seen him have. Over the radio, people talked about damage from debris, fuel, and splashing into the ocean. I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, thinking, “Why oh why couldn’t this be boring until we landed?”
Miles Perspective
On the way to the moon, the windows either pointed out to nowhere or towards the moon. The best view of Earth was through the external cameras. It was nice but kinda felt like a computer screen or video recording.
On the way back, the observation windows above the seating deck and below the command deck were aimed towards Earth as it grew larger and closer.
It was my favorite place to be when I wasn’t frantically taking photos of Zenthara’s tablet.
On the last day of our flight, I floated in front of the window, my eyes glued to the mesmerizing view. The Earth hung there, a shining blue, green, white, and tan orb that seemed both impossibly large and impossibly small at the same time. I could see no borders or buildings, just a vast collection of continents, oceans, mountains, and clouds shifting around our home planet.
“Amazing,” I mumbled to myself. “Every world leader should be forced to take a trip up here just to see how insignificant our squabbles are in the grand scheme of things. Maybe bring some...enlightenment substances.”
My heart rate was surprisingly calm, especially compared to the last few days. Somehow, floating there without the pressure of gravity or responsibilities was perfectly peaceful.
That peace was shattered in an instant when a cloud of debris streaked past the window. My body jerked involuntarily, sending me floating away from the glass and crashing into the bulkhead. The ship shuddered violently, then began to spin slowly in space.
“Damn it,” I muttered, bracing myself against the wall. I glanced down at my wrist controller, calling up the diagnostics. The numbers didn’t look good – we were losing fuel at an alarming rate.
“Commander, I observed debris fly by and strike us. I don’t have access to external cameras, but our fuel reserves have dropped significantly.” My voice held steady, to my own surprise, as I called up to the command deck.
“Understood,” came the strained response. “We have a hole in the tanks, and we lost the box fins. The self-sealing has been activated; we are waiting for confirmation.”
I pushed off the bulkhead, propelling myself towards my seat with as much urgency as weightlessness would allow. Grabbing my tablet from its holder, I ran a series of diagnostics on the ship’s systems. The self-sealing mechanism had kicked in, stemming the flow of fuel for now, but the readings confirmed my worst fears. My eyes darted between the remaining fuel levels and our flight trajectories, and it became clear that we were in serious trouble.
“Hey, Sarah,” I glanced at her, trying to keep my voice steady. “You okay?”
“Fine, Miles,” she replied, her voice shaky. She looked pale and trembling. “Just peachy.”
I looked around. The security guys looked fazed for the first time. The engineering team that had something to do was busy. The rest were pale and scared.
A subtle ding drew my attention back to the tablet. The numbers stared back at me, unforgiving. We didn’t have enough fuel to land, and without the box fin, controlling our descent would be impossible. My heart began to race as I realized the full scope of our situation.
I clicked the coms to the command deck. “Commander,” I said, my voice cracking, “we can’t control our descent, and we don’t have enough fuel to land.”
“Understood,” came his response, with near-perfect cool. “Contacting HQ for advice.”
“Attention all hands,” the intercom crackled. “Return to your seats. Make sure you’re secure. Anything that can hurt needs to be tied down. Helmets on. Air on auto.”
Fumbling with the buckle of my seat belt, I struggled to secure myself in place. Sarah saw my plight and, unbuckling herself, floated over to help. With deft fingers, she fastened the belt around me before drifting back to her own seat.
“Thank you,” I stammered. I glued my eyes to the tablet, praying to anyone who would listen to make us land safely.
Zenthara’s Perspective
The human ship was slow – painfully so. It took seven days to get to their home planet, and I spent the time on the bridge, feeling an inexplicable need to be there. Not that my presence was necessary; the ship took care of itself well enough, with the Mind stepping in where the ship’s programming lacked. But something about relinquishing the helm felt wrong.
My CO was the same way.
As my unit finished preparations for our arrival, they retreated to their various rest modes. We had compiled a specific list of entities who would attend the diplomatic meetings, and the only one I rejected outright was the Mind. He had minimal mobility, which wouldn’t do us any good during negotiations. However, he accepted my decision gracefully and offered an avatar for movement in his stead. I agreed. If the avatar was destroyed, it wouldn’t damage my unit at all.
As we drew closer to Earth, I found myself comparing images of my creators’ homeworld with those of the humans’ planet. There was something undeniably beautiful about “natural” worlds, their vibrant colors and diverse ecosystems a contrast to the uniform gray of planets stripped for manufacturing and resources. I found it sad how life could slowly morph into a ball of resources.
The philosophers among my creators believed nature had its own inherent wisdom and structure, and to some degree, I agreed. We, the synthetic intelligence, mostly took what we had and maintained or manipulated it. Only a few new creations were of our making. Biological beings, however, were terribly creative, even if inefficient beyond reason or acceptable waste.
“Zenthara,” my Second called, pulling me from my contemplation. “We are approaching Earth. Are you ready for our next set of actions?”
“I am,” I replied.
My attention was pulled from the planet.
“Zenthara, please direct your attention to the humans. They seem to be having trouble,” The Mind said.
I closed my observations and files, focusing on the humans’ ship on a separate display as it veered off course. “What happened?” I asked.
“A debris field hit them at an unlucky angle. Their maneuvering was damaged, as well as their fuel reserves.” The Mind reported dispassionately.
I opened the channels of what was happening on the human ship and scanned the information. It took me a couple of processing cycles to catch up to the current time. The voice from Earth crackled the tension in every syllable. “After analysis of all options, recommendations for splashdown. Please confirm and acknowledge.”
The voices on the human ship debated, some filled with fear, others with bravado. Ultimately, they agreed that a splashdown seemed like their best option. I quickly looked up what a splash down was and noticed the safety rating by their own statistics. Not ideal, but they were running out of choices.
“Any options they missed?” I called to the Mind, hoping for some options.
“Splashdown for the damaged ship gives risk for death or damage to the majority of the people,” the Mind responded in a fraction of my processing cycle. “There are three options humans haven’t considered: fragmentation prior to re-entry, two-stage slow down using precise firing of their rocket to cancel out speed prior to deployment of splash down protocol, and allowing us to capture them prior to being captured by the gravity well and hold them in one of our bays, landing them safely. The last option is safest. The first is the most dangerous. The second is impossible with their processing power. I would need to take over their ship and execute.”
I looked at my Second, who was signaling displeasure. His job was security, and letting them on board was a risk to security. My Second would need to deel. “I’m going to offer to take them in.”
“Zenthara, are you certain?” my SecondSecond questioned, his voice laced with doubt.
“I am,” I replied firmly, determined to help. “We have an opportunity to build trust. We cannot let a crisis go to waste.”
My second signaled his understanding. The Mind maneuvered our system to bypass the human security protocols with ease. “Channel open, Zenthara,” The Mind informed me.
“Gabriel Torres,” I began, my voice steady and clear. “You are having trouble. I am prepared to take your ship into our hold and land with you on board.”
“Zenthara?” Gabriel’s uncertain voice came through the link. “If so, please wait, I’ll pass it to the commander.”
But before he could finish, another voice interjected. “How would that work?”
“Commander, you’re hearing this as well,” I told him. Signaling to the Mind for an explanation.
The Mind complied, “We will use aerial close combat personnel and bring you into one of our holds, secure your ship, and land as one.”
“Ah, that’s a new voice. Nice to meet you,” Gabriel said, curiosity evident in his words.
“Likewise,” the Mind replied. “Please choose quickly. The window for choice is... 19 of your minutes.”
The commander hesitated. “Let me relay the request to HQ.”
The Mind countered, “No time. They average 25 minutes for feedback based on previous experience.”
I felt a bit of sympathy for these humans. In their place, I, too, would have been wary. But we didn’t have time for doubts and formalities. “You are at risk of damage and destruction,” I reminded them gently. “Please advise your choice sooner so we can do this safely.”
There was a brief silence before Gabriel sighed. “I trust you, Zenthara. Give us a few moments to inform HQ of our actions. We will be grateful for a lift.”
My SecondSecond suddenly activated his own channel, his voice hard and unyielding. “Military humans, do not dare activate your nukes. You will do little damage to us, but you will die. Then your planet will.”
I shot him a glare, disapproving of his aggressive tone. Focusing back on Gabriel, I said, “Gabriel, we are trusting you as well. My Second’s job is to be protective. I trust you are not going to be a threat to us.”
“Understood, Zenthara,” Gabriel replied, sounding confused.
The Mind spoke up, “We are closing the distance to appropriate proximity. Please advise when you will be ready.”
Issac’s Perspective
My heart pounded in my chest as I knelt down, wrapping my arms around my two children. Their little faces buried themselves in my shirt, clinging to me for reassurance. The tension in the room was palpable, gasps and swearing rolling through the room as people realized what we were looking at, and the announcer explained what was going on. It took all my strength not to let my own fear show.
I turned my attention to the screens, where announcers were providing updates on the rocket’s situation. “The damage is beyond fast repair,” The announcer said gravely. My breath caught in my throat as I tightened my embrace around my kids, trying to protect them from the potential tragedy unfolding before our eyes.
“Attention, everyone,” another announcer said, their voice cutting through the air like a knife. “We have just received confirmation that a splashdown has been deemed the best course of action.”
A small spark of hope ignited within me. Splashdown meant there was a chance for a safe landing. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but it was better than nothing. My kids looked up at me with wide, frightened eyes, silently asking for an explanation.
“Wh-what’s a splashdown, Daddy?” my Leo stammered, seeking comfort in my presence.
I mustered a small smile for their sake. “It means that the rocket will land in the ocean, sweetie. It’s a safer way for them to come back home. But it does mean we won’t see Mommy today since it’ll take a few days for the rescue teams to pick her up and bring her back to us.”
“Is Mommy going to be okay, Daddy?” Aurora asked, her voice wavering slightly.
I wanted so badly to assure them that everything would be fine, but the truth was, I didn’t know. Instead, I opted for honesty. “I don’t know for sure,” I admitted, swallowing hard. “But we have to believe she’ll be okay and keep her in our thoughts. We’ll all be together again soon.”
My children’s tense shoulders seemed to relax a bit as they sensed my own body easing up. We watched, our eyes glued to the screen, as the announcer continued with surprising news.
“Breaking developments from mission control – we have just received word that the aliens have offered to assist in the rocket’s landing,” the announcer said, his voice wavering with awe.
I looked at the camera tracking our rocket. I blinked in disbelief as I watched the alien ship move closer, dwarfing the rocket like it was a toy.
“Look, Daddy!” my youngest exclaimed, pointing at the display. “What are those?”
“Those seem to be smaller crafts,” I said, trying to make sense of it all as several small ships emerged from the larger vessel. They swiftly surrounded our rocket and maneuvered it into an opening on the side of the alien ship. The sight was both mesmerizing and terrifying.
“Wow,” Aurora breathed, her eyes wide with wonder. I must have been slack-jawed myself because my kids shook me out of my stupor.
“What’s wrong, Daddy?” they asked, concern etched on their faces.
I blinked, feeling my face burning with tears. I quickly wiped it off. “I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.
We watched our rocket disappear inside one part of the alien’s ship, as the giant doors closed.
The following is a transcript of the live coverage of the landing day.
[GNN LIVE BROADCAST TRANSCRIPT]
[Anchor 1: Linda]
Good evening, this is Linda Martinez coming to you live from GNN, where we’re closely following the historic return of the rocket from its mission to the moon. The team is making final preparations for landing, and we have our correspondent, David, at the Johnson Space Center with the latest updates. David?
[On-Site Reporter: David]
Thank you, Linda. I’m here at the Johnson Space Center, where the atmosphere is a mix of tension and excitement. The rocket, which has been on a momentous journey to the moon, is now preparing for its return to Earth. The ground crew here is working diligently to ensure a smooth landing. The anticipation is palpable, as...
[David is interrupted by a sudden commotion]
Wait, hold on, Linda. We’re getting some breaking news... There’s been an incident. It seems the rocket has collided with a field of space debris. The situation is evolving rapidly. I repeat the rocket has sustained damage from a collision with space debris. We’re trying to get more information on this.
[Anchor 1: Linda]
Thank you, David. That is indeed concerning news. We’re switching now to our live feed from the observation room, where our correspondent, Rachel, has a visual on the situation. Rachel, can you tell us what you’re seeing?
[Observation Room Reporter: Rachel]
Linda, the scene here is one of shock and disbelief. We’ve just witnessed something extraordinary. The alien ship, the one that’s been in contact with the astronauts, is now... it’s... it’s hard to believe, but it appears to be enveloping our rocket. The alien ship has opened what looks like a large bay door, and several smaller crafts have emerged and guided our damaged rocket inside. This is unprecedented. The alien ship is now closing its bay door with our rocket inside.
[Cut back to the main newsroom]
[Anchor 2: Michael]
Incredible, Rachel. Ladies and gentlemen, what we’re witnessing is an unforeseen turn of events. The alien ship, which has been the subject of much speculation and wonder, has just taken an active role in what appears to be a rescue operation. This is live, unfolding right before our eyes.
[Anchor 1: Linda]
Michael, this is beyond anything we could have anticipated. The world has been watching these aliens with a mix of curiosity and apprehension, and now we see them seemingly coming to our aid in a moment of crisis.
[Anchor 2: Michael]
Absolutely, Linda. It’s a moment that challenges our understanding of these beings and their intentions. The implications of this action are profound and will undoubtedly shape our relationship with them going forward.
[Anchor 1: Linda]
Indeed. And as we try to process this astonishing development, our thoughts are with the astronauts and their families. This mission has taken a turn that no one could have predicted.
[Anchor 2: Michael]
I’m... I’m at a loss for words, Linda. The collaboration between humanity and this alien race, which was already historic, has now entered a new chapter—one that might redefine the future of interstellar relations.
[Anchor 1: Linda]
We’ll continue to bring you updates as this story develops. For now, we can only watch and wait, hoping for the safe return of the astronauts aboard the rocket. Stay with GNN for ongoing coverage of this extraordinary event.
[END OF TRANSCRIPT]