Descending Road - ENCOUNTER by Dana W. Paxson

ENCOUNTER

0 NC, Day –2, Hour 1830

“Attention, all on board.” Commander Arnell‘s voice jarred Miriam. She raised her head, and gulped air. The lander? Was she late? Her back was to the aisle; she looked around in panic, twisting, stretching her neck to see the clock at the end of the bare bunkroom.

“The landing has been postponed. We will keep everyone informed. All those now in the staging area must report to Bay 4 for lander and fuel re-storage. That is all for now.” Arnell‘s voice was more than usually brusque.

“Miriam?” Elena‘s voice. “You asked me to stop by when I finished my rotation in clinic.”

Miriam untangled her skinsuit from the bunk’s grav restraints, and pulled it on. “Will you go back up to clinic with me?”

They kicked off, coasted. Elena said, “They found something in planetary orbit, approaching us. It looks artificial.” She reached in her waist pouch and pulled out a packmeal: a long, rectangular loaf. “I brought a snack to share. Here. Flying lunch.”

Miriam broke off half of the crusty loaf and bit down with still-tender gums on a fibrous brown pseudo-steak, grown in the ship’s vats; it seemed a piece of heavy cloth with hot sauce, but after the ten-millennium frozen dinners to which they had first awakened, it was gourmet fare. “A ship?”

“Possibly.” Elena, her dark skin glowing in the corridor’s yellow light, chewed her loaf. “It looks old, and it’s small. Ouch. Bad tooth.”

“You’ve seen it?”

“Yes. Come on. There’s still time before your shift.” Elena grabbed a handhold, turned and led Miriam down a cross-corridor.

A kilometer trip to their starship‘s stern brought them to a large, darkened chamber centered on the ship’s main axis. On the chamber’s aft wall, a two-meter-wide viewscreen gave a sharp, steady image of Layo Lamba, their Moon. A few other people floated in pairs and threes, watching the screen intently from different angles. Just off the limb of Opo‘s moon, the object of their attention hung in Pué‘s white glare. Miriam held her breath for a moment.

Nothing like the vast, five-kilometer-long assemblage of girders and nested cylinders they lived in, it was a compact lozenge, a grimy, tapered bullet. The small ship seemed to hang a few inches away, its outer skin mottled and streaked from end to end in tan and brown.

“The viewfinder says it’s seventy meters long,” Elena muttered. “Arnell‘s been trying to maneuver into pod range and match orbits with it, but that’s like steering a planet toward a rock.”

Miriam squinted at the image. “Any marks or symbols on it?”

“None I could make out, except some small orderly discolorations. It’s all beaten and pitted, like it’s been in a storm.”

Miriam studied the craft. “Activity?”

“No signals, no movement, no energy emission, no nothing. It’s coasting, turning very slowly end-to-end, maybe once a day, I mean a day on this planet we’re at.”

Miriam shook her head. “I’ve got to get to Clinic. But I wonder what it is.”

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	ENCOUNTER 0 NC, Day –2, Hour 1830 “Attention, all on board.” Commander Arnell‘s voice jarred Miriam. She raised her head, and gulped air. The lander? Was she late? Her back was to the aisle; she looked around in panic, twisting, stretching her neck to see the clock at the end of the bare bunkroom. “The landing has been postponed. We will keep everyone informed. All those now in the staging area must report to Bay 4 for lander and fuel re-storage. That is all for now.” Arnell‘s voice was more than usually brusque. “Miriam?” Elena‘s voice. “You asked me to stop by when I finished my rotation in clinic.” Miriam untangled her skinsuit from the bunk’s grav restraints, and pulled it on. “Will you go back up to clinic with me?” They kicked off, coasted. Elena said, “They found something in planetary orbit, approaching us. It looks artificial.” She reached in her waist pouch and pulled out a packmeal: a long, rectangular loaf. “I brought a snack to share. Here. Flying lunch.” Miriam broke off half of the crusty loaf and bit down with still-tender gums on a fibrous brown pseudo-steak, grown in the ship’s vats; it seemed a piece of heavy cloth with hot sauce, but after the ten-millennium frozen dinners to which they had first awakened, it was gourmet fare. “A ship?” “Possibly.” Elena, her dark skin glowing in the corridor’s yellow light, chewed her loaf. “It looks old, and it’s small. Ouch. Bad tooth.” “You’ve seen it?” “Yes. Come on. There’s still time before your shift.” Elena grabbed a handhold, turned and led Miriam down a cross-corridor. A kilometer trip to their starship‘s stern brought them to a large, darkened chamber centered on the ship’s main axis. On the chamber’s aft wall, a two-meter-wide viewscreen gave a sharp, steady image of Layo Lamba, their Moon. A few other people floated in pairs and threes, watching the screen intently from different angles. Just off the limb of Opo‘s moon, the object of their attention hung in Pué‘s white glare. Miriam held her breath for a moment. Nothing like the vast, five-kilometer-long assemblage of girders and nested cylinders they lived in, it was a compact lozenge, a grimy, tapered bullet. The small ship seemed to hang a few inches away, its outer skin mottled and streaked from end to end in tan and brown. “The viewfinder says it’s seventy meters long,” Elena muttered. “Arnell‘s been trying to maneuver into pod range and match orbits with it, but that’s like steering a planet toward a rock.” Miriam squinted at the image. “Any marks or symbols on it?” “None I could make out, except some small orderly discolorations. It’s all beaten and pitted, like it’s been in a storm.” Miriam studied the craft. “Activity?” “No signals, no movement, no energy emission, no nothing. It’s coasting, turning very slowly end-to-end, maybe once a day, I mean a day on this planet we’re at.” Miriam shook her head. “I’ve got to get to Clinic. But I wonder what it is.”