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Writer
Join Date: Apr 2006
Posts: 32
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Helmets and Stopping and the Planet of Cracks
The planet loomed large ahead of them, a giant sphere of mostly reddish colour, speckled with green and blue where the small forests and seas were. Their tiny shuttle headed purposefully toward it, became enclosed by its size the closer they got. Daven entered the control room, stretched with a yawn and was surprised at what he saw out of the window.
“What’s that, dad?”
The older man turned, looked at his son nonchalantly and answered.
“That is Trebbon. We have to land there tonight and take in minerals.”
“Are we low or something?”
“Too low to reach home in one-stop.”
“But you said I’d be back today. I made plans!”
“Your plans will have to wait, can’t help this can I?”
“Should have brought more minerals with us when we set off.”
The older man shrugged, turned to the control panel in front of him and played with the dials. The youngster stood impatiently, decided he would get no further response and left the control room, pushing the automatic door with what force he could muster.
“It opens automatically!” the older man cried after him.
A few hours later, Daven was dressed and entered the kitchen. He prepared an instant meal packet feeling very hungry and switched on the screen. News bulletins discussed the on-going civil war in his homeland, detailed the latest peace attempts, subsequent refusals, never ending treaty drafts. Daven didn’t understand it nor did he want to. His father entered, saw the screen and also saw Daven flick the channel.
“Put that back on, it’s about the war.”
“I’m watching something else”
“You’ve only just changed channel. I want to know what’s happening on Earth”
“Nothing’s happening at home except a war I don’t understand but you pretend to and one that doesn’t affect us really”
“I don’t pretend to do anything. Put it back on.”
“No, dad, I’m watching this”.
The older man prepared himself a meal and both ate in silence, starring into the black outside their windows.
They entered the atmosphere after plotting an orbital course. The trajectory was rough and jolted the shuttle all the way down. Sparks flashed against outside metal. Their speed picked up, the shuttle screeched through the sky. Orange and red blurred past as Daven looked on. His father ignored it, ignored Daven's cries of “what’s that?” The land below zoomed in, the barren landscape became clear. As their shuttle pressed onto the ground, his father got up from his seat.
“Get your suit on. The atmosphere might not be breathable.”
“But we saw forests when we were above. And sea as well!”
“Not much of them. And the tests haven’t come back yet”.
Both suited up, Daven clumsily. His father was ready well before he was and looked on him impatiently.
‘Hurry up Daven.’
The son struggled to zip up, dropped supplies out of his pockets, disconnected the air tube.
‘You’re taking too long. Aren’t you supposed to be taught this at school? When we get back you’re having extra lessons.’
“I’m doing it as fast as I can. These suits are too bulky. You’d think they could design a smaller suit’
‘The suits are fine. They’ve been good enough for centuries of astronauts’
‘What do you know about the suits? You’ve been out less than everyone back home. If you would take us out more into space I’d be better at putting the suits on.’
‘Shut up, Daven, and put your suit on.’
The older man exited the craft delicately, took careful steps down the metallic stairs and landed softly on the ground below. Daven stumbled out, made the opposite of his fathers landing. He looked out at the landscape in curiosity. The ground was strange, it just seemed dead. The cracks were many and nothing grew out of them like there did back at home. There, even the cracks had weeds. The forests they had seen from above were invisible now. Daven wondered whether they really existed. He couldn’t see past the orange dirt which stretched far in every direction.
His father had gone back inside the shuttle shortly after. “I’m going to set up the miner. Stay out here”. Daven sat on the dry ground. Sounds were deadened while you wore the suit, but he could still hear the faint whir of wind. He didn’t understand weather, but he supposed a planet with some forests, sea and wind would have a breathable atmosphere. His father hadn’t said that it did; but he hadn’t said that it didn’t. Daven wondered about this.
Inside the ship, his father initiated the mining equipment. It was a simple procedure, it could be learnt by heart in an hour. There was a manual on-hand just in case. The father wasn’t well disposed to manuals, tutorials, books or advice. He preferred a hands-on approach, learning by doing and accepting mistakes. He wore reading glasses all the time, but used them to read newspapers and fiction. He had nothing against giving out advice, and did so constantly to his wife, his son, the neighbours, his colleagues. Most of it was good but he would willingly give bad advice rather than say he didn’t know.
The miner was working now. He’d set it up perfectly. Remembering the atmosphere tests, he moved to the other side of the control room to check if they had come back.
Daven fingered the release buttons on his helmet. There were 3. To take off the helmet you flipped the lids and pressed each button one by one in the order it was meant. If the air wasn’t breathable, and he took his helmet off, what would happen? Would he suffocate? Combust? Or was that what happened if you were in space without a helmet, in the airless vacuum? Science at school was hard listening, and he hadn’t concentrated enough.
In the control room, the older man picked up the results from the computer. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Daven outside. Moving closer to the window next to him, he couldn’t tell what the boy was doing. He seemed to be fiddling with his helmet, touching something at the back of it. That’s where the buttons were! The older man banged on the window to tell him to leave it, but the windows were thick enough to keep out space and there was no hope of Daven hearing. The boy’s fingers were restless. They moved round the buttons eagerly. What was taking his father so long? He had told him the miner was easy to set-up. The air around seemed okay, not what he imagined suffocating air to look like. It was the same as the air back home. His mum and sister would be breathing it right now. He flipped one lid, pressed the button. His nerves broke but nothing happened. He sat back in relief. What had he expected to happen? The older man saw this, saw his son being a fool. What was wrong with the boy? He threw the papers in his hand on the floor, stormed angrily out of the shuttle.
He jumped the stairs, thumped onto the ground. His son sat white faced on the floor.
“What the hell are you doing Daven?”
His son didn’t answer at first. He stood up, removed his helmet.
“It’s breathable, dad”.
Daven hair rustled in the wind, the thick black strands adhering to the messy cut.
“You idiot! You stupid idiot!” He moved toward his son with menace, then pushed him to the ground. Daven looked at his father from the ground in alarm. The older man’s face twisted, he was furious. His eyebrows slanted over his piercing eyes, his mouth closed tightly covering his clenched teeth
“It okay dad, the air’s ok. It’s like the air at home!”
The older man sat next to his son and didn’t look at him for a few seconds. Then, turning to him, he spoke:
‘Don’t do anything like that again. Ever. You know what could have happened? You could be lying here dead. Or still choking. Don’t you see it’s dangerous? What you did –‘
He went quiet, at a loss for words. He put his arm around his son and brought him closer. Daven didn’t protest. The two were quiet, starring into the picture-less horizon.
Last edited by H-Mallow : 06-22-2006 at 10:12 AM.
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