c. 2026 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(5-26)
Powering up C-drive propulsion seemed to allow the Digger shuttle to maneuver more effectively in the worsening storm conditions, despite its handicapped state. But as the small transport lunged forward with renewed vitality, it overshot Lake Erie completely. The skipping-stone effect they had hoped for was sidelined, completely. With a hard landing somewhere in Torontara awaiting their uncontrolled descent. And the original orientation they had desired being reversed by chance.
Baines was flustered at the helm controls.
“I still can’t get this creaky crate to respond as it should! Damn those Seagull bots! We’re about to come down like a sack of stones!”
Serge Tarka had been trained for emergency situations, as commander of the Mare Frigoris mission. Moreover, he had been observing intently, as the university professor wrestled with the dashboard systems used for navigation. He guessed that a pivot while they still had enough altitude to spare would place them in a better position for survival, and reaching their intended destination at Grafton Depot.
“I’ve been studying your procedures, Judson. May I give it a try?”
The professional scholar knew that their chaotic jaunt was about to terminate abruptly. He strained to move backward in his web chair, and gestured over the console.
“Do what you think will work. I don’t have a better idea. We’re about to crash on the shoreline!”
The Calimex engineer switched off their autopilot assistance, and sensor array. Now, they were completely under analog control, and in motion only with a human in charge. Then, he grabbed the manual joystick, and peered through their forward viewport.
“Hang on friends. This is likely to make you feel disoriented for a moment...”
The Digger craft accelerated rapidly, while spinning in a clockwise rotation. Loose implements were thrown around in the cabin. All three of them teetered on the brink of vertigo, and unconsciousness. But the shuttle righted itself quickly, went back toward the large body of water, and took a steep dive into its wealth of blue.
The gravity arc sent their vessel upward again, with reflected energy. This time, in a southern direction, with enough distance between themselves and the landscape below that a more hospitable spot could be found to perch.
Kelly Strafe was nauseous, but impressed.
“Shit, that was insane! I never even pulled off a trick like that in pilot school!”
Tarka narrowed his eyes while monitoring their elevation and velocity with digital gauges on the dash. He crouched forward in the safety harness, until his muscles ached from the added restriction. He wanted to be certain that nothing escaped his attention, while bringing their short trek to an end.
“There’s a clearing of some sort around a mile from the town center. I figure that will keep us distant enough not to arouse undue suspicion from the local populace. They appear to be rural Appalachians, with a revived sense of individuality, and the old arts used for enduring hardships, while living in the wilderness. But they’ve got some sense of the outside world, at least...”
Baines laughed while marveling at their good fortune. He felt confident that a safe landing was about to transpire.
“And they’ve got a hillbilly flavor to their radio broadcasts! I heard the Foxfire books mentioned as being on their library shelves. My great-grandfather mentioned those in some of the notes he left behind. They’re like a user’s manual for surviving in a subsistence environment!”
The wounded transport sputtered a bit as its Cloitanium crystals were no longer synced-up properly. But had built up enough inertia from skipping off the lake surface, that it made the overland leap without risking a crash. The squarish ship came in at an angle that was steep enough to avoid clipping treetops, but conducive to sliding through the woodland loam, comfortably.
Strafe held her stomach and groaned as they reached ground level. The impact shook every girder and stress point in their Digger conveyance.
“Man, what a ride that was, Juddy! But I’d be glad not to do it again!”
Having come to a full stop, they could more directly observe signs of a civilized area, close at hand. The inhabited region around Grafton followed a hillside slope by the river, and also, the remnants of a railroad line that had once operated nearby. The abandoned B&O station still stood proudly, as a marker that indicated how busy the community had been in days of yore.
Tarka unhooked his safety straps, and sat back for a moment of relaxation, and introspective thinking.
“We were luckier than my men in the Farragut. I had no control over our drop from the sky. But this time things were different. You might say it is something of a miracle, if you believe in such things...”
The university steward shook his head in disagreement.
“I believe in technical skills. And the ability of a smart innovator when things get rough!”
The former Space Force lieutenant was more spiritual in her assessment. A din of dizziness still buzzed inside her skull.
“I won’t reject a miracle if it was sent my way. Right now we could use some divine help, to avoid seeing more of the surveyors from your coastal republic! If it takes a prayer for that, I’ll join in, willingly!”
The trio wanted to disembark after a few minutes, to catch a welcome breath of fresh air outside of their sealed bubble. But the atmosphere remained too unruly for being exposed to natural unrest, in a storm environment. Rain and hailstones pelted the ship’s hull, with a noisy downfall of violent precipitation. Eventually, this howling of wild weather began to rock the shuttle on its undercarriage. Stray branches and decaying matter blew up from the forest floor. The gray glow of a day ruled by meteorological mayhem took hold. They had nowhere to escape while watching this show of force by Mother Nature.
Feeling impatient with the period of rest, Baines activated a receiver on the dashboard panel. He scanned regular frequencies, until a local signal locked the automatic tuner. Then, the piercing pluck of a vintage banjo filled his ears.
“There’s a well-beaten path in the old mountainside
Where I wandered when I was a lad
And I wandered alone to the place I call home
In those Blueridge hills, far away
Oh, I love those hills of old Virginia
From those Blueridge hills I did roam
When I die won’t you bury me on the mountain
Far away, near my Blueridge mountain home...”
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