Page 8 of Crash Landing
The only piece of home, really.
When my door shut, motion-activated lights activated above, giving the room a faint, purplish hue. Next to the far wall was a silver panel with a curved glass screen hovering over it. I swiped the thing awake and started sifting through my sparse inbox of messages to find my mission file.
It looked like I was headed back to Sylos. Or, more accurately, its moon, Phesah. I was to pilot and guard a group of eight botanists from Earth into the wilderness to collect samples. The planned trip would last four days with a base of operations atblahblahcoordinates somewhere nearblahblah.
I rubbed my eyes and started going through the details. I found the ship I’d be flying. A Tk-3, which wasn’t fancy, but they were tough. Older models usually were. They weren’t too aerodynamic, though. Shame. I would have loved to scare some science geeks with my fancy tricks.
Then I opened the roster. I didn’t know why I felt the need. Vahko always said it was good to know your crew, whether they were essential members or clients and I guess those words stuck. First, I found a long list of supplies being sent with the humans. Scientific stuff mostly. I studied the kinds of suits they’d be wearing and the oxygen masks they were all going to be equipped with. Fancy. For humans, anyway. They were breathers with facial coverings that had all kinds of data and recording capabilities.
When a list of humans showed up in front of me following the small cargo they were coming with, I started skimming names and pictures trying to see what I was dealing with. Michael Hemberg, lead researcher. Ulia Fost, professor. Jory Reynolds, Field tech. Nathaniel Nells, student researcher.
My brain shorted for a split second when I came across a particular photo. I narrowed my eyes on it, blinking a few times as if it would make it go away. The woman in the photo had a tired smile on her face. Full lips. Pink cheeks. Dark blonde hair, unlike the last time I saw her. She looked so proper. So cleaned up. So… bored.
Next to the photo was her name and title, but I already knew them.
Samantha Worthingon: Student Researcher
Sam… the small, sassy, sickly girl that made my life hell when she was stuck on Sylos. Despite the fact that Vahko and I had saved her and her friend from certain death, she still treated me like a pest on her shoulder. Her picture and her name were plastered right there in front of me on a list of people I was to escort. She thought she was a botanist? She was allergic to everything! I laughed because it all sounded so ridiculous. Out of billions of humans and millions of valerians, the two of us were about to be stuck together again.
I scrubbed my face and paced around my room for a moment, regretting more and more every day that I didn’t join Innifer and Vahko.
4: Sam
I… hate… spaceships.
The week leading up to launch day, I had tried a million times to get through the simulations without wanting to hurl, but I wasn’t cut out for it. I managed to hold it together after the third time I sat in the simulation pod, but half a dozen times after that, I still felt queasy. And I never understood it. I loved roller coasters as a kid. So why did my stomach hate anti-gravity now? Hell, after coming back to Earth, even elevators made me uncomfortable.
On top of the queasiness, I had a cold sweat all over my skin, I was biting my lip so hard it was almost bleeding, and I’d broken my nails on the seat restraints from holding on too tight. My doctor said it was PTSD, but I always thought PTSD would be more dramatic. I thought I’d be screaming and unable to dissociate the present from the past. That sort of thing. Who was I to have PTSD when so many people on that freighter weren’t even alive to have anxiety at all?
And yet they were sending me to space.
Not that I wasn’t excited in a way. I was going to finally get some hands-on experience. I was going to learn from the best. And alien plants fascinated me. Of course, I was used to studying things brought back by people from the Nexus. I wasn’t used to retrieving them myself.
“I’m serious, you know,” Dr. Kiens said, raising her full brows at me. She was pretty in an “I don’t need no man” sort ofway with her long black hair and straight bangs. “I can give you a prescription.”
“No,” I shook my head with a practiced smile. “I’m good.”
“Are you really up for this? I know you’ve come a long way since you returned, but going back up there can very well trigger some things you think you’ve gotten over.”
“I know, but it’s a big opportunity and I need to reach for those, right? That’s what you do when you want something. You reach. I’ve never been a reacher before. I want to be a reacher.”
She nodded, a sympathetic shadow moving across her eyes. Thank God the Nexus was funding my time with her. I would have never been able to afford her repetitive opinions and professional nods otherwise.
“If you’re sure,” she said. “Remember your breathing and meditation. I’ve sent your medical records along with the people who are transporting you all to the Nexus in case anything happens. But I’ve cleared you for travel. I hope I haven’t made a mistake.”
“You haven’t. And nothing will happen.”
“Of course. Well, I wish you the best, Sam. I really do.”
“Thanks,” I said quickly, standing from the wooden chair across from her.
Her office was so drab, like everything else on campus. I wasn’t sure why a science school needed to be boring, but a lack of color seemed to be a staple.
While I would have loved to chat any other day about all the problems most people didn’t know about, I was in a hurry to get ready for my trip. I was biting my nails the whole way back to my apartment wondering if I should have taken her offer to refill my meds, but I was a strong young woman and I could do it unaided. With that thought, I straightened my shoulders and walked on with as much confidence as I could muster and for the next hour, I was stuffing some things into a small pack.
“All packed?” Thomas asked, walking through my open door to find me filling a black pack with bunched-up clothes.
We were all allowed one small bag. Big enough for a pair of practical shoes, three pairs of pants, three pairs of shirts, and our essentials. The trip was only supposed to take a week, so no personal items that took up space were permitted.
