Planet M-114

[NS]

In each four-hour watch onboard the 5-EX, each of the three Ordinary Spacemen of that watch had to spend an hour performing “sweeper” duty, or general house-keeping. This morning, from 0800-0900, it was Professor Alan Grant, an archeologist from the University of Indiana. The Professor was busy washing the remaining breakfast dishes and would then wipe down the tables on both the Mess Deck and Wardroom before swapping the decks in those areas. Afterwards, at 0900 hours, he would relieve a fellow Ordinary Spaceman on the Pitch and Yawl Controls and stand that Watch for two hours (from 0900-1100)

“Ya know, Doc,” the Ship’s Cook, Petty Officer Second Class James Earl Callahan drawled in his Appalachian accent. “This will be my third cruise on this here ship, and I still ain’t got used to seeing all of you educated fellers doing Mess Cook duty.”

Professor Grant smiled as he scraped food remnants into a waste receptacle. “Oh, it’s no big deal. I had to do jobs like this before. To pay for tuition. Now…”

The Professor side-stepped the Cook to go back out on the Mess Deck to get more dishes, “I am earning something far more valuable than a degree. Just imagine, we are heading for a planet that has the remains of a long dead civilization. An alien civilization.”

“Yeah, but Doc,” the Cook said, “The way I hear tell it, there is already a research team on that planet. They’ve been there for nigh on to twenty years now.”

“That’s right,” Grant agreed. “Professor Carson is head of the team. Forty years ago…That’s when they left earth for M-114…He was one of the leading authorities in the field. In fact, some of his books are still used as the standards.”

“Forty years,” the Cook slowly shook his head. “That was sixteen years before I was born.”

“Twelve years before I was,” Grant replied.

“And over twenty years of that in deep hibernation,” the Cook gave a slight shiver. “Those ‘sleeper ships’ give me the willies.”

“No other way to get that far out,” Grant pointed out.

“Exceptin’ now,” the Cook looked around his domain with pride. “This here ship is making the same trip in jest a little over two weeks.”

“Yep,” Grant agreed. “And after visiting some other planets, will be back in six or seven months. Meaning I will have the latest, most up-to-date data on the findings from that ‘dig’. The radio transmissions that Earth is receiving are fifteen years old.”

“Why you sly ole…” the Cook grinned a lopsided grin. “I reckon ya will be able to write jest all kind of books and stuff about it, huh?”

Grant winked at the Cook. “Now you see why I do not mind washing dishes at all? Not at all?”

Their chat was cut short by the Captain’s voice reverberating through the ship’s inter-craft system. “Now hear this. All hands man your Deceleration Stations. All hands man your Deceleration Stations.”

“That’s it!” the Cook tapped Grant on his bicep. “Let’s go strap ourselves in. We’re coming out of hyper-space. Next stop: Yer planet. M-114.”

In the Control Room, the Senior Personnel of the ship were manning all stations, and after the ship came out of Hyper-Space, Lieutenant Moonwatcher tried contacting the planet. After several tries, he turned to Commander Smith. “Nothing, Skipper. Not even a carrier wave.”

“Hmmm,” Commander Smith replied. He was busy piloting the ship to the surface. “As soon as we land, I want you and Spaceman Grant to accompany me planet-side. Mister Faraday, you’ll have the ship. Let no one off until you hear from me.”

“Wonder what happened to them?” Lieutenant Faraday, the First Officer, asked as he concentrated on the instruments in front of him, making adjustments from time to time. Steering an EX through an atmosphere is a tricky business.

“Who knows?” Commander Smith replied. “A meteor. Disease. Mass suicide from boredom.”

Commander Smith chuckled when he said the last. “Or most likely radio malfunction. But regardless… I’m not taking any chances.”