Planet Of No Return

The surface of Selm-II was lost in darkness below when Brion eased himself into the airlock. Everything he would need after he had landed was now sealed away in a thick plastic tube he had slung across his back. The bulk of the gravchute rested lightly on his massive shoulders, well strapped into place. Lea watched him as he checked the fastening on his pressure suit one last time; her hands were clasped so tightly together that her knuckles were white. He looked up and waved, but as he turned to leave she leaned forward and rapped on the front of his helmet. Brion unlocked the faceplate and swung it open. His expression was as calm as hers was perturbed.

“Yes?” he said.

For a moment she was silent, the only sound the hissing of oxygen from the helmet inlet. Then she leaned forward, standing on tiptoes, and kissed him firmly on the mouth. “I just wanted to wish you good luck. I’ll see you soon?”

“Of course.” He was smiling as he closed the faceplate again. Then he shuffled forward into the airlock and closed the inner door behind him; the indicator beside it flared red a moment later as the outer door opened.

Brion waited then, long minutes, staring out in the vacuum of space, until the computer signalled that the right moment had come. The instant the green light flashed on the control panel he launched himself forward and out of the ship.

Lea sat at the viewscreen and watched his falling body, pinpointed by the flare of braking rockets, until it dropped behind and vanished from sight.

5: Barehanded into Hell

Brion dropped down into the black hole of the night. There was no sensation of motion in his free fall, although logically he knew that his speed was accelerating with every passing moment. Yet he appeared to be unmoving, alone in space, surrounded by the stars, with the dark disc of the night-shrouded planet below him. The planet itself was surrounded by a corona of light where the occluded sunlight was refracted by the atmosphere. It was brighter on the eastern side where sunrise was on its way. Despite his apparent lack of motion, Brion knew that he was hurtling downward in a carefully computed arc towards a precise spot on the surface below, falling towards the sunrise. The microcomputer in the gravchute on his back was ticking off the seconds leading up to that moment of arrival. From time to time he felt slight tugs on his harness as his fall was slowed by precisely measured amounts to conform to that program.

It was only because of all of his years of training that he managed to keep his thoughts calm, to hold at bay the close-pressing fear that would cause his body to react and send the adrenalin circulating uselessly through his veins. The time for action would come after the landing; the time now was for contemplation. He sank quietly into a relaxed state of half awareness, letting his body drop into the seemingly endless fall, ignoring the slight tugs on his harness that soon strengthened into a continual pull. The first traces of thickening atmosphere brushed against his suit. The fall continued.

Sudden light burst into his eyes as the sun cleared the horizon. He stirred and flexed his muscles; it would be time soon. Although it was sunrise at his altitude, the land below was still filled with night. An all-pervading greyness suddenly replaced the light as he dropped through a thick belt of cloud — then out of it again to fall towards the dimly lit landscape below.

Safe so far. There were no missiles — or aircraft. But he was well aware of the easily detectable metal in his equipment. He, could be a blip on radar screens at this instant, missiles could be rising in his direction. He ached to be on the ground and free of the revealing metal. Twisting in the harness Brion looked down between his feet at the grassy plain that was hurtling towards him. He knew that he was falling too fast — but speed was his only defence. If there were radar detectors out there he had to be on their screens for the least possible time. Which meant that he had to fall just as far and as fast as he could, waiting to brake his fall at the last possible instant. This moment was fast approaching. The ground was closer, almost upon him — now!

A twist of the control switch sent power surging through the gravchute and the harness bit deep into his thighs. He was still falling too fast — he had to feed in more power. The harness creaked with the strain. Ease off. Now — full on!

His feet struck the ground hard so that he had to fall and roll end over end among the tall grass. Then all he could do was lie still for long seconds with the wind knocked from his body. He willed his limbs to move but at first there was no response.

It took a determined effort to pull himself to his knees, then to weakly draw himself up, to stand at last. To then do all of the other things that could not wait, that must to be done at once.