How pretty it is!

by Anthony John

A Short Story from the Debris Collection

The rings of Saturn are generally regarded as one of the most beautiful sights in our solar

system; they are naturally also the destination of choice for many great cruise liners. Ships

from Vesta, Mars or the moons of Jupiter visit them frequently. But the most luxurious and

celebrated of those liners, the Galileo, is the cruise ship of choice for the truly rich and

famous. Its route takes in the storms of Jupiter, the great coloured swirls and spots in the

upper atmosphere of the largest planet, before heading out into deep space to visit the rings of

Saturn. In shape it is a huge sphere, almost half a kilometre in diameter, its perfect curvature

only disturbed by the plexiglass blister which is its bridge, projecting from the front. Its

equator, also girdled with plexiglass to give an unparalleled view of space from its hundreds

of suites and staterooms. There are no ordinary cabins, other than for the crew of course. The

kind of passengers who book on the Galileo are used to the very best.

“Oh, yah, we went out to Saturn on the Galileo you know. How pretty it is!” They tell

their friends later, in the fashionable restaurants of Rio or Humbolt. “We joined it from Vesta

of course. Jupiter is breathtaking, and Saturn stunning, but that ship is truly magnificent!”

These people don’t talk about the costs. That just isn’t relevant to them.

Of course, a ship the size of the Galileo can’t get close enough to those immense gravity

wells, to give you the full experience. So, you can choose to book a place on one of its cutters

for a day trip. These sleek cruisers, small and fast, but without the luxury of gravity, are

carried in the belly of the Galileo, and will take you right in close. At Jupiter they actually dip

into the centre of the Great Red Spot until you see the atmosphere close over you; leaving

you floating in a dense soup, swirling around in a frenzied kaleidoscope of reds and ochres.

When you approach Saturn they take you right up to the rings; sometimes skimming

along above them, or diving down through the Colombo Gap. The talent of the pilots is to put

the sun in exactly the right position, where the incredible happens. When it bursts into view,

the reflections and refractions of the drifting blocks of ice create the most dazzling,

bewildering, psychedelic, light show in the solar system. You will have seen the glittering

holo images of the great chandelier hanging in the ballroom of the Vesta Ranaralt Casino?

Well, imagine a thousand, nay a million of them, hanging together, and lit by a similar

number of the purest white spotlights, and you’ll be just starting to get an impression of that

display.

The top pilots who make these flights are of course highly paid. And the best of them

were all trained at the Europa Flight School. You can see them walking around on the

promenade deck, wearing their distinctive tan coloured flight jackets with the eagle’s wings

and the pure gold thread E. F. S. lettering emblazoned across their shoulders, they are

unmistakeable. Normally they are to be seen with a select group of the beautiful young things

surrounding them, hanging breathlessly on to their every word. On these ships they are the

seldom caught prey for those in search of the ultimate catch, and they rarely dine - or sleep -

alone.

Uday Manar is one of those pilots. As the Galileo swept in toward Saturn, he gently

detached the young lady, the elder daughter of a Martian mine owner, who was currently

hanging on his arm.

“I’m sorry, but I have a tour booked. I’m due to take a cutter out to the rings shortly.”

“Will I see you later?” She asked, breathlessly.

“Probably not I’m afraid. I already have a reservation for dinner, but it was lovely to

meet you.” And he disappeared into the crew quarters to prepare for his flight.

This wasn’t going to be a long flight. Today all he was doing was taking a dozen or so

people out to view the rings. An hour to get there, a couple of hours cruising around, then a

half an hour back as Galileo caught up. Quickly he made his way down to the docking bay

where his cutter, the Metis, waited, gleaming at the end of its pier. Going through his usual

pre-flight routine he checked it over, walking right around it, looking for anything that looked

even slightly off. He found nothing.

Then he boarded and checked the interior. The twenty-four seats were hanging on their

gimbals in three neat rows of eight, their straps arranged across the cushions just so. The

deep-piled midnight blue carpet was newly cleaned and he nodded approvingly. Looking

upwards he inspected the plexiglass ceiling, looking for any slight abrasions on the outermost

layer, or – Zeus forbid – a thumbprint on the inside. Again, he could find none. As he stepped

through the partition doors to the crew area he was greeted by his flight attendants. Today he

had Simon and Yvette.

“Good morning, sir.” Said Yvette cheerly as he went in, “the rings are nicely tilted today

I see; we should get a good show.” And she carried on checking the contents of the bar and

snack lockers.

“Hi Yvette, hi Simon. Looks that way, if we can catch it right it should be superb.” As he

opened the cockpit door he looked back. “Would you mind, about half an hour into the flight,

bringing me in a coffee please? Strong, black with two sugars.”

Simon looked up from his checklist. “Of course, sir. I’m sure one of us will.”

“Thanks.” And the door closed behind him. The crews liked working with Uday, not

only was he considered the best of the pilots, but he was polite with it. Some of the others

didn’t even seem to that know courtesy existed.

He started his pre-flight checks, speaking directly to the ship’s AI system.

“Preparing for departure. Confirm all systems at optimum.”

“All systems at optimum. Propellant water reserves at ninety-five percent. Fusion reactor

at tickover. Time to maximum power output approximately eight seconds. Maximum

acceleration with anticipated loading one-point-eight g.”

“Give me a nav sphere of radius one light-second.” A holo sphere lit up in the centre of

the cockpit. Several small points of light showed inside of it, each with its illuminated ID,

mostly just passing asteroids. At this stage they were still too far out to see the rings

themselves, that would come later as they approached.

“Captain, boarding is completed, and the doors are sealed.” Yvettes voice came through

the speaker.

“Thank you Yvette. Commencing departure.” Uday replied, then addressing the AI again,

“Standard departure procedures. Commence.”

“Standard departure procedures commenced. Pumping down dock. Outer doors opening

in four minutes. Galileo bridge notified.”

The Metis glided silently out of the docking bay, the passenger seats rotating back to

compensate for the acceleration. As they exited the doors closed behind them, and they were

away toward the ring system.

Uday relaxed, this was a routine flight. All he needed to do was to ensure that the

passengers got the best possible view of the rings, so instructing Metis to rotate so that they

were ‘above’ the ship he tilted his seat back and relaxed as the bridge door slid open, and

Yvette brought him his coffee.

“Thank you, Yvette.” He took the cup.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”

“Not just now Yvette, thank you.” Slightly disappointed, Yvette left.

The Metis had completed its first pass through the Encke gap, and the passengers were

definitely not disappointed by the display as the sunlight was shattered into the myriad

rainbows and patterns he had hoped for. As the show bathed the ship in light though, Uday

was busy, intently studying the nav sphere and considering a swooping upturn to pass through

the narrow Keeler Gap, just behind the tumbling pencil that is Daphnis, when he noticed

something odd.

Saturn’s rings consist of an uncountable number of ice fragments and a few chunks of

denser rock that are responsible for the gaps. However, they all orbit in the same direction

and on roughly the same plane. So, what is that? Toward the bottom of the sphere, a chunk

that not only appeared to be in a retrograde orbit, but dropping rapidly toward the

atmosphere, in maybe an hour, or two at the most, it would burn up in what would probably

be quite a spectacular display. If it was just a rock it might be worth prolonging the flight and

watching the show.

“Identify the object in location G-twelve.”

“Unidentified.”

“Composition?”

“It appears to have a titanium alloy outer skin but has no electrical activity as a ship

would.”

“Give me an optical. Maximum magnification.” The sphere disappeared, and a small,

obviously military vessel appeared in its place. It had battle scars showing around its rear

thrusters but no lights on at all.

“Are there any signs of life?”

“None discernible.” Uday looked at the image. As he watched it rotated slightly and a

number came into view. APV-223.

“Run a check on APV-223.

”

“In progress.” There was a delay of three or four minutes as Metis contacted the Dione

hub.

“APV-223. Armed Patrol Vessel. Crew three. Departed Gagarin Station 25-7-2186.

Lieutenant Jackson Grainger commanding. Engaged armed raider 12-11-2186. No contact

since.”

“Get Simon in here.” A few moments later the door opened. “Yes Captain?”

He pointed to the image. “That is a lost P-FED patrol vessel. It has no detectable energy

traces. But there’s a possibility it still holds atmosphere, so someone could still alive in there.

I’m going after it.”

“Is that wise, sir? This is only a pleasure craft, and with passengers on board.”

“We don’t have the time to wait, its orbit is decaying too fast, it’ll hit atmosphere in less

than two hours.”

“Your decision, Captain.”

“Tell Yvette what’s going on. I’ll let the passengers know.” Simon turned to leave and

Uday spoke again. “Fasten seatbelts. PA on.” Then addressing the passengers through the PA:

“This is your Captain speaking. We have detected an unpowered military patrol vessel that is

liable to burn up in the outer atmosphere very shortly. There is a possibility that the crew may

still be alive, so I am required by maritime law to attempt a rescue. Please remain in your

seats as this might get bumpy as we approach.” He turned back to his console. “Give me

manual control.”

He paused as the harness fastened around him and the control yoke slid out of its recess.

Grasping it he pushed the thruster control forward to set the cutter on a diving course toward

the spiralling vessel with all the acceleration he could muster. As he made his approach, he

could see that the ship was smaller than his, but still had a considerable mass, probably more

than he could pull out of its death plunge with this cruiser. As he stabilised alongside of it, he

decided the best approach would be to match its slow tumble then dock on. Then, if there was

anyone alive inside, they could retrieve them before leaving the ship to its fate.

His AI didn’t have the specialised programming needed to perform the complex

calculations to dock to a ship that was itself rolling; even this slowly. So, he was forced to do

it manually, the hard way. But that was exactly the sort of thing he was trained for. By the

time he had got it stable alongside of him, the passengers seats were all frantically swinging

to and fro in a synchronised dance, and the small waterproof bags were in constant use.

As the docking tube extended and locked on, he called out to Simon. “We’re locked on

Simon. You’re good to go. Be careful though, we don’t know what we’ll find in there.”

Simon unstrapped himself and attempted to stand, but even with the bond-fuzz on his shoes

he could barely move around. The passengers watched as he half stumbled, half dragged

himself across the lurching deck to the port. Opening the inner door he stepped in and closed

it behind him.

The air inside the ship was cold, but not foul, which was a blessing at least. Few things

are worse than the smell of a corpse in a confined space. Moving forward to the bridge he

dragged himself cautiously through the half-open doors. Three people were strapped into

their seats, one clearly dead, with a gaping wound on the side of his head where something

had hit him. It could have been anything, there was enough debris floating about in there. Of

the other two, the first, a girl was completely unconscious but breathing shallowly; the other,

the commander, was just barely conscious, and turned towards him saying something that

sounded like “David?”, before his eyes rolled upward again.

Simon spoke into his communicator, “Captain, two of the three still seem to be alive.

Can you see if we have a doctor on board and if so, tell them to come over, also ask Yvette to

bring me a stretcher and a body bag?” About three minutes later, Yvette arrived with one of

the passengers that he vaguely recognised. He went straight to the injured man and checked

his pulse, before looking at Simon, and shaking his head.

Simon looked at Yvette. “You get the girl onto the stretcher; I’ll deal with the body-bag.”

The doctor was now unstrapping the captain and, with an arm over his shoulder, half-carrying

him toward the air-lock, staggering as the ship lurched again. The AI floater-stretcher was

easier, all Yvette had to do was to push the girl onto it and strap her down, before telling it to

take her through to the crew section. The stretcher moved off, following the still staggering

doctor.

In the meantime, Simon had managed to wrap the body-bag around the deceased man

and zip it up. He then pushed it off and followed it out of the lock and back onto the Metis

where he resealed and undocked. No sooner had he done so, than he felt his weight returning

as Uday, having seen the indicators in the bridge, fired the main engines.

The patrol ship fell away from them sideways, its demise now inevitable. Uday stabilised

the Metis and turned it so that its belly was toward the now perilously close atmosphere. His

instinct told him that braking would be impossible, this close in the best chance he had was to

try and skim the atmosphere. The passengers watched and some screamed in terror as they

saw the plasma glow lapping up at the edges of the plexiglass ceiling, threatening to overheat

and rupture it.

By the time they got back to the Galileo, Lieutenant Grainger was fully conscious and

frustrated at being confined to a spare crew cabin. The young officer who was rescued with

him had regained consciousness as well, and was now above him in the other bunk. The cabin

door opened, and Uday, accompanied by the Galilo’s medical officer entered.

“Well Lieutenant,” Uday said with a smile, extending his hand, “welcome to the Galileo,

although I have to say that’s not the way most of our passengers come on board! Still, it’s

better than the alternative, that’s for sure!” The Lieutenant shook his hand warmly as he

continued, “the captain would like you both to join him for dinner if you feel able, and in the

meantime our communications and other facilities are at your complete disposal should you

need to report in.”