ONE
"I should just ignore the signal, Otto... claim my communication gear is screwed up and I missed the message."
Otto remained silent, recognizing Kulcin's remark as a statement and not a question.
Kulcin Black had been comfortably seated with his hand on the back of his head, happily watching Europa shrink in size the farther away he traveled. Europa was one of his least favorite places in the solar system, with its scratched and tortured surface making it a hell hole of a place to land; why anyone would have an interest there was beyond him and now the thought of having to return was sheer torment.
It was times like this he questioned himself for being so loyal to the District, especially after his last quarterly review and the skim he received on his bonus. 'Thank you for all your hard work and dedication,' it stated, 'but un-projected exploration costs were encountered in securing new and exciting opportunities. To further distance ourselves from our competition, these small sacrifices we make today will reward us, all, exponentially over time.' He could almost taste the revulsion at the back of his throat. The fat cats were getting fatter and fatter. While someone needed a new space rock to name after their kid, the exploration cost was coming out of his bonus.
"Turn it around, Otto," Kulcin commanded with a heavy sigh, so weighted with frustration that Otto thought it necessary to run a health ping of Kulcin's vitals.
"Confirmed," Otto responded.
"Any luck contacting the exoBiologists we just dropped off, Otto?"
"Negative."
"How about PelCo-1? Are you able to reach anyone?"
"Negative. I believe the static we are hearing is just empty space, an open channel."
"Keep monitoring and let me know if you pick up anything."
"Affirmative," Otto replied.
"Christ, they didn't even get to the front door. I knew I couldn't get away fast enough. It's like the company doesn't give a shit and will send anyone here for the sake of PR. Bad enough I have their free-floating puke in my cabin, now I gotta go back for more. They aren't paying me enough to do this job, Otto."
Otto remained silent, sensing another statement.
"Coming in at two-zero-zero in one minute," Otto stated.
"Roger that." Kulcin acknowledged with a yawn. "Take us in and remember, Otto, unlike you I'm human so keep the bumps to a minimum."
"I will do my best, Kulcin."
Kulcin hated what was coming next. Between the deluge of radiation from Jupiter wreaking havoc on the communications gear and Europa's magnetic pull and uneven atmosphere, it always felt like the shuttle's skin would one day peel back like the lid on a can of sardines.
"That's another thing, Otto, all the profits get dumped back into the pony show of corporate. You should see what they are giving to the new Academy class. And here I am... flying this junker."
Otto made no response.
"Jesus, Otto!" Kulcin pressed. "We're coming in a tad hot, aren't we?"
"I apologize for your experience, Kulcin, but with SIRCA coating maintenance past due, I need to angle reentry away from the weaker edges. I had advised you—"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Kulcin cut in. "That's why I have you, Otto, so I don't need to be advised of stuff like that. When we get back to Haven, just arrange it. OK, Otto?"
"Affirmative, Kulcin."
Hearing thumps of debris sweeping over and under the fuselage, Kulcin looked up as a klaxon alarm shrieked in its aftermath.
"Christ Otto! I'm right here. Shut that off!" the last of his words booming when everything around him had become silent. He flexed his jaw to clear the ringing in his ears.
The shuttle began to wobble. "Otto, stabilize please." Calmly, he engaged the autoNav controls as the instruments around him began to blur from the intense shaking.
"I am having some difficulty, Kulcin. It appears the aft gyro became inoperable when parts of the SIRCA coating were damaged."
"Seriously, Otto? Anything else I should be concerned about?"
"Yes, Kulcin, the port skid door is currently non-responsive and our FN1 rotator assembly is not operational at this time. We will not be able to achieve a vertical landing."
Furious, Kulcin pounded on the arms of the console chair. "THIS PIECE OF SHIT SPACE GARBAGE!" his fists clenched so tightly he could hear the synthetics of the gloves stretching over his knuckles. "Otto, hand over control, now!"
"I would not recommend that, Kulcin. I am more proficient at trajectory approach than humans—"
"Otto, it was your proficiency that got us to this point! Now release control, immediately!" he shouted, hearing the vibration in his voice as everything around him began to shake violently.
The shuttle dropped into a spiral and he grabbed the joysticks. "Jesus, Otto! You are really starting to piss me off. It would have been nice of you to warn me you were about to release control!"
Otto did not respond.
Kulcin managed to stabilize the shuttle, even though his angle of incline meant a harder burn rate on the SIRCA shield and a possible breach of the hull where the tiles had ripped free, but he was willing to sacrifice that aspect to avoid the constant rattling of his brain. Switching on the drag panels the shuttle began to settle and he could concentrate on how to land with only one skid-pad and one thruster.
"Had you instructed me to take a higher risk-to-safety ratio," Otto spoke out, "I would have piloted us to the same effect. I had you in my best interest, Kulcin."
Chewing on his lip, Kulcin did not continue his banter with Otto. "How thick are the flats near PelCo-1?"
"AMSR from CryoSAT-2, indicates 86.860 percent of the flats are less than one meter of thickness," Otto responded.
"Is there anywhere else I can put us down? Even at zero-point-three-nine g, I'm going to shred this pig on contact, or worse, put her through the ice, Otto!"
"The flats would be our preferred landing site, Kulcin. Would you like me to take back control?"
"Negative! Please lay out the track for me, Otto, and indicate the sections of less than two meters of ice. I'm taking us in my way." Kulcin slipped on his helmet and pressurized his suit. Following the flight trajectory on the heads up display of his visor, he looked for areas of thicker ice in the flats but saw none. There was too much thermal activity taking place beneath the sub-station, but that was where he had to set down.
"PelCo-1, this is Haven-3. Please have your service cats at our tracking cords, over."
There was no response.
"PelCo-1, this is Haven-3. Do you copy?"
No response.
"Otto, what's going on down there?"
"All channels are open and operational, Kulcin."
"Then why is no one getting back to me?"
"I cannot answer that, Kulcin."
"You cannot answer that, as in, you know but won't tell me, or you don't know?"
"I do not know, Kulcin."
He was regretting coming back here, "All I had to do was ignore the goddamn distress signal and I would be sitting in my bay right now, feet up, staring out the window with a GODDAMN TUMBLER OF ARDBEG IN MY HAND!"
Predictably, there was no response from Otto.
"Are you capable of praying Otto?" Kulcin goaded, not expecting a cognitive response from a machine. "Because if you are, then start praying." he said, angling the nose of the shuttle upward. Firing a quick succession of bursts from the remaining FN2 thruster, he brought the craft down hard where it rocked forward onto its nose and came to an abrupt halt. Kulcin held his breath, knowing that if he could count to three he might be safe: one-thousand-one, one-thousand-two... then a sharp crack resonated throughout the hull, and the nose plunged beneath the ice as the shuttle listed forward, the water rushing furiously against the cockpit windows. He was hanging downward in his chair, but managed to unlatch the safety harness and pressure lines before falling onto the console.
"Otto, open the rear hatch!" Otto was not responding. "Otto!"
"I cannot do that, Kulcin. Damage to the hydraulics are preventing the door from opening."
"Blow it then for Christ's sake!" Kulcin shouted as the shuttle tilted downward with his weight added to the front. He moved slowly off of the console and grabbed onto his chair, pulling himself up the incline of the ship.
"Do it now, Otto!"
"I must warn you, Kulcin, my calculations indicate the thrust of the charges and rapid escaping air from the blast will result in the shuttle sliding off of the ice shelf. With the hatch removed, water will flood in."
Kulcin paused. He was always a little irritated when Otto's logic had trumped his own. "Ok, don't do that," he retreated, "but this shelf isn't going to hold us much longer. What alternatives do we have?"
"I have run multiple simulations and our odds are best if we do nothing." Otto responded.
"And those odds are?" Kulcin asked.
"A 23.648 percent survival rate."
"Very nice, very nice..." but the sarcasm was lost on Otto. "PelCo-1, this is Haven-3. Do you copy?"
No response.
"Otto, where is everyone? Why is no one responding?"
"I cannot answer that Kulcin," replied Otto. "Communication appears fully operational. I can receive ACKs on all loop-back channels."
Kulcin placed his foot on the armrest and pushed upward, climbing toward the back of the shuttle. He stopped when he thought he heard another crack. Then unmistakably, another crack and the shuttle slipped into the water as gracefully as a penguin, diving downward, then curving up toward the surface where it bumped along and came to a near vertical rest with the cockpit windows pressed neatly against the underside of the ice. He was lying sideways in his chair and looked up through the cockpit windows, where the ice was crystal clear and the great red spot of Jupiter lay beyond, mocking him.
"Otto, are you there?"
"Yes Kulcin."
"How thick is the ice here?"
"Approximately 3.5 meters."
"You have got to be kidding me? The one place where there is ice thick enough to land on and I'm on the other side of it!"
"I would not kid you unless you asked me to, Kulcin."
"Any ideas on how to get out of here?"
"Bringing the aft thruster to full power increases your odds. However, the shuttle's current alignment will result in a glancing push under the ice with a high probability of the cockpit windows failing."
"And if I don't try that?"
"You have enough oxygen for 69.567 hours, which is 3.933 hours short of a rescue shuttle ETA."
"Even with the EVA bioPaks?" he asked.
"I have incorporated their reserves into my calculations." Otto responded. "If you can get to the surface, the scrubbers can produce more oxygen."
"Therein lies the dilemma, Otto."
"You will be pleased to know, Kulcin, that I have already alerted Haven of your situation. PelCo is also aware of the communications issues at their sub-station."
"What does Haven expect to do, Otto? You already said they will not make it in time if I cannot get to the surface."
"Haven is dispatching a team for your search and recovery, headed by Captain Power."
Kulcin shifted in his chair, looking up through the cockpit windows and contemplating his next move. "Search and recovery," he said, digesting those words. "so touching, Otto. What could be worse?"
Almost in answer, there was a lateral shift of the shuttle, as if something had brushed up against the back starboard corner.
"What was that, Otto?"
"Unknown, Kulcin, I cannot identify the source."
It was subtle, but he could feel the shuttle being tugged downward and looking up through the cockpit windows he could see the ice slipping further away and the light beginning to dim around him. He stabbed at the aft thruster icon—more than once—as if that would help against the strain holding it down, but he could not gain its release. With one last ditch effort, he toggled open the stored hydrogen reserves, redirecting the flow into the chamber and forcing the aft thruster into boost mode. Everything began to shake; something had to give and suddenly the shuttle shot upwards.
With steel grey eyes wide open behind the protection of his visor, Kulcin was ready to take on whatever came next as he stared out at the ice rushing toward him. He was not afraid of dying and very matter-of-factly uttered aloud his thoughts, "What are the odds... Don't answer that Otto!"