On the Wings of Hope : Prose

Forward, forward, forward. He has no time for hesitation. Maximum possible acceleration… Minute-two before the ending of air travel… Sharp peep of a sensor. Ten seconds before the ending of flight… nine… eight… seven… Not it’s time for landing.

Turning off engines. Turned-in feet. Sharp push and collision with a ground. And then he cried from a sharp outbreak of pain in feat and mentally cursed himself with last imaginable words for own nonsense – he still hasn’t learned to land down normally for the last year, but after all was so proud of received rank “Space pioneer. Class : veteran”. At least he operated his “Wild Boar” much better… Not every rookie could be proud of the received on a year-term basis skill class “veteran”, after all!

So, nine kilometers are already behind. Somewhat about five hundred meters still remained. Yes, here it is – accurate and reliable radio signal of a beacon of his vessel on the info-scanner. Five hundred twenty four meters on a straight line. Yes, exactly that way he was going to move – to run, precisely… Only the right foot somewhat badly obeys him… No matter, forward! Quickly moving feet. Periodic short-term jumps of one foot. He was reaching his spaceship…

Battened-down locks. Emergency activation of engines. Dark enormous silhouette which has appeared on a horizon. Quicker, quicker, quicker! Now he is already under the defense of “Wild Boar”, but for this patrol star fighter the beastie that has appeared on sight and was now quickly closing the distance could be a serious opponent. Therefore he has to leave from this planet. To go to another world and another time. More favorable and best for him. He was absolutely sure that such one does exist.

Quicker, quicker, quicker! His hands operated automatically, needing no brain control – more than a time or two performed work. Work of the traveler of dimensions, of the space pioneer.

Here … the analysis of galactic location … Star system Miracle. Planet Stiggs. Here, planetary coordinates of the vessel. I-know-it-all already! Now, further… Calculation of a trajectory and take-off parameters from a planet… Faster, faster, compuer … time presses … Time does not wait.

All done… Preparation of weapons system… No way! Not these pity guns will not help him a lot … a several minutes is required for their activation – only several minutes, which he does not possess. He stirred up his head. Next, next, next!

Flight point – planet’s orbit. Yes, let’s get out into orbit, and then decide what to do next. Finally, the calculation of parameters is completed. Permission for launch? Yes, yes – I give that permission! Launch, launch, launch! Faster! Five hundred meters before the menace … Do it!

Push. Shake-up. Push again. Once more shake-up. Hit. He flown away aside. Hitting of a head. Pain… Oblivion…

* * *

Slowly opened eyes. A terrible headache… Where is he? What’s with him?

He looked around. Habitual terminals … control panels … “Wild Boar” – words came from the depth of his consciousness. Painly familiar word. His vessel. His loyal time, time and again helping him in cosmic spaces. Him, bearing a proud name of the pioneer…

It turns out that he is alive then. He is alive? Alive! Have been rescued?

He slowly rose. It’s necessary to understand of where he is now along with a ship… Lonely though “alive” at the tip of the tongue, steps towards navigation terminal, the head that is being shaken here and there, stream of blood coming from a nose… He input query quickly. Five, ten seconds… He continued to look at the monitor bewildered…

“Inquiry number 1432435623.

Onboard computer of a space starprobe vehicle “Wild Boar” class patrol fighter…

Location. Star system: Miracle. Planet: orbit of planet Stiggs.

Code of orbit’s coordinates 65466456”.

Finally he got it. Orbit, orbit of a planet. Before making such an unsuccessful landing with a head into a wall, he has managed to set a ship’s course. Yes, and the vessel has safely orbited. For how much he has been travelling? He has darted a fleeting glance at time sensors.

Second, two, three… His jaw started drooping slowly… What?? He wiped his eyes. No, gears cannot mislead him- the universal decoder of time flows invented by experts could accurately and reliably detect a time interval in which he was, and therefore his owner as well. But … this?? Plain letters and symbols, which have now gathered into totally senseless lines…

“Type of counting of time flows: zero year of our era on a planet Earth.

Year: 8056”