1 Dropship

Consciousness faded in and out. First darkness, then light. A repeating pattern in time with the rhythmic beating of the heart.

Captain Paul Anderson's physical form materialized in a flash of white. It felt as if he had just been wrenched out of a great chasm that had been pulling him back with unimaginable force. His body had been stretched; torn apart into a million pieces. Somehow, though, he had remained all together. A breath lingered in the air. Paul reached out to catch it as blood began to flow to his brain again, his heart finding its rhythm.

Paul's eyes adjusted as he familiarized himself with the new atmosphere. His training kicked in immediately and made for a smooth transition, allowing him to compose himself quickly. His mind void of thoughts, Paul's first instinct was to move. Hopping off the seat he had appeared on, his balance unsteady as his muscles strained, Paul instantly felt the weight of a load he was carrying and looked down at himself. A tight yet flexible fabric wrapped around him, and he realized that he was attired in one-piece violet suit. Beneath the strange fabric Paul's skin tingled. The load was a large bag strapped to the suit. Paul peered through the fiber-glass visor that shielded his face like a fish in a bowl and squinted to clear his vision as he panted, feeling the oxygen rushing in and out of his lungs. The transition between atmospheres was almost always the hardest part.

The soft humming of a ship's engines and heavy thumping footsteps combined into a cacophony of muffled sounds. For a second, Paul questioned what he was doing there, his memory a droning static like he had just woken up from a coma that lasted a millennium. Brain fog, he thought and gave his head a shake. He felt a twinge of frustration and racked his recuperating brain for answers. Where am I? Why am I here? His eyes focused on the metal floor beneath his booted feet. Its grooved and lined surface seemed familiar to Paul; a distant image buried deep in his head. As he stared his head erupted with vivid memories as if he had been given an enlightened epiphany.

Paul now remembered that he was on a mission. A team of skilled engineers like himself was tasked with maintenance on the main ship, often called "The Musk," which required urgent repairs due to the length of time it had been in active service. He was currently in the "Dropship" which was supposed to transfer them to The Musk. Once that was completed, The Musk would then land on a recently discovered planet, Polus, and establish a base before resuming exploration. This mission was one of many others which had different arrival destinations on Polus' surface.

Paul's head throbbed with a dull pain after teleporting from the Airship on Earth to the Dropship as he recollected his thoughts. It was only his third time to teleport, the new way of travel as human technology continued to advance. He almost felt proud being a human, knowing how far man had come. This mission was a way to show his gratitude for the pioneers that came before him and prove to HQ his capability and expertise. Paul was determined to impress whoever was monitoring the progress of the coming tasks, his passion for space exploration burning inside his chest like a blazing flame.

Teleporting was still experimental and had its flaws. It was limited to short distances of several thousand miles; not to mention the side effects, but it got the job done and wasted no time traveling from place to place. Although it was efficient, the thought of existing only as scattered atoms moving near the speed of light would make anyone uneasy, Paul included. He remembered for, only a moment, the feeling of trepidation mixed with the sheer wonder of the achievement when he had taken that inaugural trip some time before.

Paul concentrated and took a deep breath, settling into the environment. His eyes fully adjusted from the eternal darkness to the harsh glare of the lights in the ship. He quickly realized he was not alone. Many other brightly colored figures moved about the one room. They wore the same suit as Paul and had the same clunky physical appearance. While they were all wearing similarly shaped space suits, they were of different tints and shades: Cyan, Pink, Black, White. A plethora of colors which Paul thought was an excellent way to distinguish between each of the astronauts.

Some were simply jogging around the room, most likely keeping fit to be better prepared for the arduous job ahead. Others were crowding around the computer, choosing the optimal outfit to meet their needs when carrying out their jobs. The computer was a fascinating piece of technology. Once a particular piece of apparel or equipment was selected, it would teleport the accessory onto the user. A greenish light glowed from the screen, casting a glaring reflection onto the visors of each bulky suit. They were transfixed on the computer as they navigated through the options. Paul knew what they were seeing, having done the same task on previous missions.

He counted eight of them. My team, he thought. My crew mates for the duration.

Something picked at the back of this thoughts. There was a problem here.

There were only nine team members including himself, and if he remembered correctly from the briefing, they were given there was supposed to be the tenth crewmate. Of course, they could still carry out the mission, but the more the merrier. As if the Universe was reading his thoughts, a flash of white shaped like an astronaut scintillated across from Paul. Fully formed, this crewmate was dressed in a lime green suit and had a tall, solid build but was otherwise indistinguishable to the rest of them. Like when Paul had first teleported, the newly formed crewmate jumped off the chair instinctively. The new arrival paused for a moment, possibly tranced by the side effects, before appearing to recover fully from the teleport. Dismissing the late arrival, Paul continued his detailed analysis of his surroundings.

Fitted with a specialized computer, precariously placed on top of a greenish box, the Dropship also had two storage containers on either side. Along with these were two long rows of teleportation seats. Paul stood beside one row. Glancing to the left, he noticed that between the seats stood a massive door almost twice his size. The sturdy-looking metal sliding doors were firmly shut, shaped like two puzzle pieces connected, it locked entry into the cockpit of the small ship. On the wall beside it was a blue screen that displayed the charted course of the ship.

Paul studied it for a minute, tracking the white dotted lines that curved around circular representations of planets. Since he majored in physics and astrology, he knew that the trajectory utilized the Mark Sling Effect, enabling the ship to take advantage of the gravitational field of planets to increase its velocity and save on fuel consumption. On the other side of the door were two lines of keyhole slots. These, Paul knew, controlled access into the control room and other functions of the ship including heating and cooling of his immediate environment. Paul had simulated this mission dozens of times on Earth but always wondered why this safety measure was necessary; and why primitive tools like keys were still used. With the doors sealed off, in the event of the automated system guiding their travel malfunctioning, the crew would be helpless. Or was it to protect the ship from falling into the wrong hands. Paul's intrigue grew but there was no point worrying. His drive to do his duty for humanity overpowered his curiosity.

When Paul's hands regained feeling, he pressed the radio button on the side of his helmet to hear any ongoing conversations. His helmet burst to life with voices. The loud incoherent chatter startled him as he had grown accustomed to the soft hum of the ship and the sounds of his heavy breathing. Paul heard elated talk of the mission and tasks that lay ahead. Others discussed past experiences and what they had come to expect. He was listening intently, extracting any advice he could ascertain. Out of the continuous noise, Paul heard someone calling him in his vicinity.

"Hey," a voice called out above the general rabble. "Purple!"

Of course, Paul realized instantly. He didn't know anyone here, and introductions were not exactly necessary before the mission, after all, it was only a simple maintenance operation for its first phase. There would be ample time to get to know the team on the way and upon arrival planetside.

Paul couldn't pinpoint the source of the unfamiliar voice over rising sounds filling his helmet. "Purple!" the voice cried out once again. Paul then realized that it was the new arrival, the crewmate in the lime-colored suit who was addressing him.

"The name's Paul," he said as he turned to face the new arrival, grateful to have someone acknowledge his presence and replied gladly.

"What's yours?"

Paul appreciated the color system but preferred to know others by name which he would then use to identify them with their colored space suit. It made him feel less of another cog in the machine and more like a person even though he knew he and the others didn't have much significance in these missions. In the whole universe, come to think of it. At least knowing each other's names made him more human, and maybe the information may become useful later.

"My name is Luke," the other man said. "A pleasure to meet you." His voice was low, gruff, and rife with mock sincerity making his greeting not a particularly friendly one. The astronaut took several steps forward from his teleportation seat, and his nonchalant demeanor instantly faded, turning dark and domineering. "Do you think we are going to make it?" Luke asked, with an unexpected judging tone as if a switch had been flipped inside of him.

Paul was taken aback by the peculiar question and change in attitude.

"I…I don't know," he stammered. In his head, Paul repeated what Luke had just asked him: Are we going to make it?

He had no idea what the other crewmate was talking about. This mission wasn't known for being a risky one since many others just like it had been successful. Did he know something Paul didn't? While trying to decipher the meaning behind Luke's words, Paul recalled rumors about a vicious alien civilization possessing shapeshifting abilities allowing them to contort their bodies into any creature they encountered. More than a simple change in appearance, these aliens were said to become exact physical duplicates of whoever or whatever they met, gaining all the advantages or strengths of any other species. They were also said to become bound by the same limitations that the original living being had - such as breathing oxygen or the affects cold or hot temperatures.

Some believed these aliens a myth, while others had shared harrowing experiences. Paul personally sided with the myth argument. He accepted the concept of aliens but didn't expect them to be such a close threat to even be considered as a danger to the team. As far as mission control knew, they were somewhere far away from the solar system, possibly in a different galaxy altogether.

If mission control was wrong, the aliens could be anywhere, Paul swallowed. Even on this ship! A drop of perspiration ran down Paul's forehead and his suit suddenly felt a bit too hot for him. He wasn't going to start doubting the operation because of the theoretical alien species. There was no way that any kind of alien could have made it through all the security protocols.

"What do you think about planet colonization?" Luke pressed on. "Do you believe our technology is capable of maintaining life in hostile environments? What about the other countries on Earth? How do you think politics will play out with the race against survival?" Through the visor Paul sensed Luke eyeing him intently, a stare scrutinizing his every move. Luke's massive build didn't intimidate Paul, but his inquisitive and assertive character did.

The affable conversation Paul thought he would have with Luke was dashed to pieces and he squirmed in his suit. Being a normally confident and composed person, Paul suppressed the emotion from the irregular start of a possible friendship and went along with the flow of the small talk. Taking a deep breath, his passion shone from his inner-most being, and he presented his case.

"Of course," Paul said with confidence bred of true belief, attempting to match Luke's powerful aurora. "The recent advancements of our technology have been very impressive. I believe that it is important to unite the nations together to focus on utilizing the ingenious innovations to pursue the best of humanity and further opportunities that present themselves through planet exploration."

Luke, behind the visor of his line-green helmet, seemed unfazed by Paul's inspirational speech and nodded as if he barely heard what he had said. "Interesting…" he muttered.

At that moment, to the surprise of everyone, the platform they were standing on buckled and jerked abruptly. The consistent hum of the engines began to subside as the power of the rocket thrusters began to reduce. A high-pitched mechanical whine came from the front of the ship as a towering shadow crept its way into the view of the window panel.

It was massive. The Dropship dwarfed in comparison to The Musk that loomed over them. It took only a few seconds for the whirring to stop. The ship was rocked by a final, jarring quake nearly sending the crew off balance, then it became still. They were docked.

A moment of silence passed as they all waited in eager anticipation. The heavy metal door at the rear of the ship hissed open as if it were the entrance to another dimension. Bluish light and a new smell of air streamed into the body of the Dropship as retractable stairs smoothly unfolded from the docking platform above, an entrance into heaven.

As a crew, they clambered up into The Musk with a palpable sense of excitement and astonishment. Paul had already forgotten the awkward conversation and became distracted by the impressiveness of The Musk, oblivious to Luke's narrowing eyes.

The interior of the larger ship was just as incredible as its exterior. Intricate machinery and complex wiring lined the walls. They had all entered the cockpit of the ship, aptly named Navigation, and were supposed to assemble at the cafeteria, the largest part of The Musk, to receive their tasks. Finding the atmosphere more familiar, Paul remembered he had been on a ship not unlike this one on Earth but never in space. He longed for the view even though he had seen it so many times from inter-planet travel within the solar system, he had only heard the experiences from veteran astronauts of what it was like before he had been sent on the mission.

Being at the front of the ship, this room had the best visibility of the vacuum that he had yearned to see ever since he started reading the space exploration stories as a kid. The Mars landing from years ago had been one of his favorites. He must have read about it thirty times or more in his youth. Paul was just about to turn around to face the front of the ship when he was nudged forward by another crewmate from behind him. Nodding, Paul obliged and didn't hesitate to keep moving after he realized he had stopped at the top of the stairs. His heart thumping hard in his chest filled with enthusiasm, Paul followed the bee-line parade of astronauts out of Navigation and through the winding halls of The Musk towards the cafeteria.

The hallway was adequately illuminated by the lights lining the floor of metal sheets that made up the path. Passing through the different sections of The Musk Paul couldn't help but stare into each room, briefly scanning every detail before moving on to the next one.

Arriving at the cafeteria Paul first noticed the length of glass panels at the end of the sizable room. He gasped at the spectacle in front of him. Glimpses of distant iridescent stars, planets and solar systems were spread across the glass, blanketing the expanse. It was like living a dream. Paul was mesmerized by the sight with child-like awe as if it was his first time. He imagined he was floating in the vast darkness at peace with the stars, the galaxies singing a silent yet glorious lullaby.

The decision to join the space exploration program was an easy one. After serving several years in the air force, Paul left to pursue his childhood aspirations and signed up for the mission. He had been put through a challenging training course in Mira Space Academy which prepared him for the missions he would embark upon. This was what it all came down to. The endless routines, the simulations, and physical examinations were now about to be put into action.

A stop in the procession brought him back into The Musk. Standing on sandy colored shade tiled flooring, Paul grasped the familiar Earth-like features immediately. Five blue round tables made up the room. Trays and crumbs of food left over from previous crews still lay on the tabletops. It was strange how none of it was cleaned as if it was left there in a hurry. Concern crossed over Paul's face as he wondered where the crew from the other team might have gone. He guessed that they might have been called back to Earth from HQ, taking their Dropship with them, but it was just speculation. The logistics and human resources of the operation were so extensive, Paul was sure that it would be possible to lose track of all the members. He just hoped they wouldn't forget about his crew.

Paul and his teammates gathered around the table in the middle of the cafeteria. The table-top looked much like the others, except in the middle was a hand-sized red button. It was protected by a glass shield crisscrossed with yellow warning tape. From what Paul understood, it was only to be pressed in extreme, life-threatening emergencies. If it is pressed, Paul remembered from the last briefing before departure, everyone is required to follow protocol, stop what we are doing, and come to the Cafeteria for a meeting as fast as possible. Paul hoped they never had to use it, but he felt he certainly would if the need arose.

Glancing around the table at each astronaut, Paul noted the color of their spacesuits. He would have to work with them for the whole of the operation and he knew he would need to trust them as much as they would need to trust him. Through the radio silence he could already sense the chemistry born of similar choices they all had between each other. First, they needed to complete the repairs. Paul's mind was running through all the tasks he would soon be assigned, his heart palpitating with both enthusiasm and nervousness.

Just as everyone was accounted for, the maintenance phase of the mission officially began. A crewmate dressed in a crisp, black space suit crossed his line of sight snapping him out of his trance. His team member waved cheerfully as he passed, and Paul nodded in return. Through the opaque glass visors, they wore obscuring their faces, Paul could still imagine the smiling faces under them as they got to work right away. A warm feeling kindled his heart. A feeling of unison and purpose, a united crew, taking the next big leap for mankind.

Paul planned on sharing the good vibes he felt and waved to another teammate who had just walked in near him. The astronaut in the blue space suit seemed to have seen Paul but didn't wave back. Instead, he stopped and stood still, most likely fascinated by the larger ship he had entered. Paul shrugged off the ignorance and continued to move deeper into The Musk.

Remembering the tablet that they were equipped with, Paul whipped it out from the side of his pack and absorbed the tasks he was given. He studied the map of The Musk and recalled the standard layout of these kinds of ships from his early space exploration classes. Paul should know it like the back of his hand. Registering his first task on the list, Paul swiftly got right to work.