Response to criticism/What's next?

Wow, first post of the year. I blame the entire Mass Effect series for my lack of work.

 

 

I've received quite a bit of a commentary on the 2nd Edition of An Alternate History of the Netherlands (that's the one on the website). The biggest critique was about the alternate WWII, which I happen to agree with them on entirely. It's not plausable or workable, so that's why it was eliminated on the 3rd Edition (published). As for me going off the track and talking about things that had nothing to do with the Netherlands... I can't help that. There's just so much to explore. As seen on the new map, there is no USA. Maybe I'll salvage all the American pieces for its own history. Writing a piece on the Great Lakes Campaign for the Great War has some appeal.

 

 

As for what's next. Though I've been outlining something called the Unnamed War, my real focus will be on an alternate history I call Lion of the Sahel. It's based of the Ethiopia of the West concept and will follow a surviving Songhai Empire to the modern age. Given the differences between Kindle and Nook (the former sells at a ration to the latter somewhere between 3:1 and 4:1), and depending on how long it takes B&N to get on the royaties, I might just go Kindle with it. I don't like the idea. The main reason I have An Alternate History of the Netherlands on multiple sites is because I want to see them all compete against each other. If all the books are only for one data slate, then that tablet gets a monopoly. Lion of the Sahel will be cheaper since it'll be shorter and I didn't spend years revising it.

The New World

The map for the 3rd Edition. The Balkan Union is still in the rewrite since I figured that the Balkans would be the most repressed region of Europe and the nationalities subject to the German Austrians or the Turks would rise up eventually. Africa looks like an even bigger mess, but I think that has more to do with me not being able to draw up decent borders. Japan eventually lost control of northeastern Asia. I have no idea what they would call it. I refer to it as Kamchatka, but that's not exactly Nihon-go.

What's next?

With An Alternate History of the Netherlands published (and a few copies sold) I'm wondering what I should work on next. I still have Stardust: Mylo to finish, with one spell written 2005-7 and another one started up in late 2011, and that stalled again. I will finish this outline! After more than a thousand pages, I better. The problem is that the main character has risen to Field Marshall and has so many responsibilities that the adventure is lost. I'm thinking about turning the remainder into more of a collection of tales about other characters, though the main ones will still be there at key points.

 

What should I publish next? I"m looking to rewrite one of the Stardust stories (under a different name), as well as one of the alternate histories. Lion of the Sahel (about a surviving Songhai Empire) is one possibiliy, as is Russian Pacific (which is connected with Hawaii Partitioned), Andean Kingdom (the Inca become a protectorate of Spain instead of outright conquered), Volgastan (about a civilization on the Volga), Crown of the South Seas (that one's about an expanded Chile) or the German War (like Vietnam or Korea, except in Germany).

It published!

An Alternate History of the Netherlands (3rd Edition) is now on BN.com for the Nook, and should be up on Amazon for the Kindle shortly (they're taking longer for some reason). It's been a long rewrite, and I can think of a hundred other details I can add to it. And, I will eventually. Well, I hope it sells better than my short story.

Way ahead of schedule.

It's done. I finished the last chapter of the rewrite of An Alternate History of the Netherlands. Now all I have to do is print the whole thing, read it, fix any typos and then publish it. That might take longer than it looks, since I don't have a printer. As for chapter 8; there is no WWII this time around. It didn't make any sense that one should exist. Oh, the Commonwealth still fights Japan, as well as others for control of oil. Without a big war in Europe, technology advances a little slower, but the wide range of the Pacific propels technologies that would have taken longer otherwise.

Chapter 7..... done

The problem with having a USA in the first two versions is that rewriting the Great War was a big pain. Chapter 7 covers the time 1888 to 1935, and saw the rise of new Dutch states. I'm not that satisfied with the rework and am going to have to take a good look at it. Well, after I finish the whole thing of course. Chapter 8 will have to be so radically different because of how far the AHN world has diverged that I might have to start from scratch. Well, mostly from scratch. There's still the war against Japan in the Pacific, but no WWII. Without that war, technology is going to get slow in some respects to our own world.

Chapter 6: fin

I'm on a roll. Chapter 6: The Four Corners of the World, is finished. It wasn't that difficult, since much of the previous edition material did not need a whole lot of editing. I cover the far flung colonial empire of the Netherlands. The biggest difference would be India, which is confined to the south and east of the Subcontinent, with a Mughalstan still hanging on in the north.

Chapter 5 complete.

Being mostly broke and stuck at home on Thanksgiving (can't go nowhere until payday) I decided on a marathon typing session, in where I completed Chapter 5. Revolutions is a familiar enough name, but this time around it's different. No Amercian Revolution, no Napoleon, still a French Revolution, but that takes place after the Spanish Revolution in the 1830s. This chapter covers the changing world, from Brazil to the UP to New Amsterdam and how industrialization is changing the face of Dutch society back in the United Provinces. Any one of these chapters I could write enough for a seperate book, but as seeing I want to have An Alterante History of the Netherlands to be a short history than anyone can read (without falling asleep), I have to pick and and abridge. Besides, there's always a 4th Editon... unless I die, which would really infuriate me if that happened before the 3rd Edition was complete. I don't like leaving things unfinished.

Chapter 4 complete

This rewrite is taking longer than I first planned. The 4th Chapter, named Hostile Takeovers is now complete. The name comes from the United Provincs taking over French colonies, British colonies (well, the VOC did that) and then VOC holdings. History branches away from our own far more in this version. After the War of the Spanish Succession, there is a War of the British Succession, which is mostly another British civil war. That was eventually turns into a Third Anglo-Dutch War, where the Dutch make sure that the House of Stuart-Oranje retains the British throne. The Dutch throne went to William and Mary's eldest son while the British one went to the second born. And, despite as much flak as I've received for it, the Swedish Royal House still takes the crown of the Tsar. Sweden-Russia will eventually be a dual monarchy, like our own history's Austria-Hungary.

Chapter 3 complete.

Chapter 3 of my rewrite of An Alternate History of the Netherlands is complete. It covers the Anglo-Dutch Wars (the first two) and ends with England and the United Provinces sealed in an alliance. The ending is different from the last edition. Mary II is proclaimed queen by Parliament, but William II does not become King William III. He's king the same way Phillip II was king when Mary I was on the throne. In name only, and through his wife. After all its religious strife and civil wars, the Dutch consider the island of Britannia more trouble than it's worth, and the Staaten-Generaal is quite content to leave it alone with a friendly regime in place.

Chapter 2 is finished.

Chapter 2 of An Alternate History of the Netherlands (3rd Ed) is complete. I've added a little and trimmed a little. One of the new things is a brief summery of Abel Tasman's circumnavigation of Australia. Thus the easy part of the new edition is complete. From here on out, it's going to start diverging more from our own history. I have no idea when Chapter 3 will be finished; obviously after I'm done moving. I figure at the rate I'm poking along, I should have the whole thing finished early next year. So as long as the world don't end in December, I'm aiming to complete it in January.

Chapter one complete.

I've began work on a third edition to An Alternate History of the Netherlands. The easiest part is complete, chapter one. In this edition it will cover 1569-1609, and I call it easiest because it required the least amount of rewriting. The whole story will be overhauled and rewritten in several cases. The purpose is to make it more realistic in terms of the impact that the United Provinces would have on history. It won't be posted on the website. Instead, I plan to turn it into an ebook, and hope it will sell a bit better than The End. It will also focus on Dutch history and the rest of the world will be more background. Obviously I'll have to explain the whole Sweden-Russia thing, and how the House of Wittelsbach replaced the Romanovs. I suppose a strong Dutch monarchy itself would alter the dynastic flow of European history as well.

Day 11

My planned departure for the mountains was delayed by a sloth. At least their hands and claws remind me of a sloth—in fact, that is about the only part of the animal that is in the leastways sloth-like. I took one last look around my lander before lifting off, only to discover this Pseudosloth sleeping beneath it. Though the lander was once an ancient heavy lifter, its engine was one of the first things replaced. I could have easily lifted off without harming the creature thanks to the propellant-less Space Drive. Instead, I decided to try and capture this creature and study him while in the mountains. I doubt a week of captivity would harm the creature. The blank look in its open eye left me suspecting the creature probably would not have a clue what was happening.

            What was once the cargo hold of a heavy lifter is now an extensive biology lab. I adapted one of the isolation labs to serve as a terrarium for the Pseudosloth. I even went as far as to spend an hour bringing in sand and rocks for the creature. No point in unduly stressing it out. Since I planned to bring in specimens long before I arrived, I included adjustable lights within each chamber. With a simple command, the ship’s AI toggled them from the yellow/white light of Sol to a dimmer, redder light more comfortable to the creature. Every time I stepped out of the brightness of my lander into the relative dimness of the Sun Spot Desert, I feel more like I am entering a cooler place. Only looking at the temperature gauge on my E-suit’s HUD reminds me that this desert is closer to boiling than freezing. I left the isolation chamber at around three hundred forty Kelvins.

            Catching the Pseudosloth proved far simpler than I expected. The creature paid little attention to me. Whatever smells that remain on my E-suit from inside my own atmosphere meant very little to the animal. When my boot crunched on a particularly brittle piece of stone, the Pseudosloth’s head bolted straight up. Its eyes scanned all around me, but never once focused on me. Billions of years of evolution never prepared any creature for an alien encounter. Even a species as intelligent as my own (or so we claim) had its own difficulty in wrapping out collective heads around the concept of life off Earth.

            The Pseudosloth is a rather rotund creature, with a fat tail. I suspect, and later confirm, the fat tail is just that; a fat reserve. Lying down, the animal does not appear nearly as large as its true size. As I step even closer, the narrow (and sharply beaked) head finally turns my way. The dull eyes register that something is approaching, but the animal’s small brain cannot understand the nature of the danger. As the Pseudosloth stands, I am surprised to see the animal is as tall on all fours as I am standing up. I begin to wonder if the isolation chamber will even hold the fellow.

            It would, but the fit would be like a turtle in a glass bowl; functional and not as comfortable as I would like. Misjudging the animal’s size, I back off for a moment and reevaluate my strategy. An animal lighter than me I was prepared to haul inside. E-suits might not be powered armor, but their mechanical assistance would allow me to carry my own weight. The Pseudosloth is probably twice my size. Too bad teleportation was physically impossible; it would be a really useful tool at moments like this—even if it did kill the original in the process.

            In the end, all those worries proved themselves moot. When I made another, more assertive move on the Pseudosloth, it might not have understood the nature of the danger, but it understood danger stood before it. I never would have imagined a creature that knuckle-walked could move so fast. Perhaps Pseudosloth was not the best name for the creature, but I could not help but make the association with the extinct ground sloth. Oh well, I still have more than two months left on the planet, and I am bound to capture a live specimen sooner or later.

Day 8

I know it's not much in the way of alternate history, but here's more about Hypnale.

Day 8

            The Hunting Pod moved little since its successful hunt. According to the airborne probe, nothing remained of the animal I saw earlier. The probe did observe some activity in the oasis. As much as I would like to get a sample of the water, I dare not move hastily. Just because my E-suit suffered no damage this time, that did not mean I could get a spear through my faceplate in the next encounter. The heavy elements in my body (to say nothing of the E-suit) would be quite lethal to the Pod. Too much time would be wasted properly mapping the Pod’s sensory network. I am still unsure if the Pod detects its prey by physical contact with small branches, or by vibration.

            Just as I sat down to begin my breakfast; one of the consoles began to beep. I ordered the probe to also keep an eye out for anything out-of-the-ordinary. In the Sun Spot, that amounted to anything large on the move. When I checked the read out, I certainly did not expect to see an animal the size of an elephant. Perhaps the Sun Spot is not that different from the Kalahari after all. The probe did not detect just one of these animals, but three of them, all moving towards the oasis.

            I quickly slip into my E-suit and step outside for a closer look. I have to call up another probe, this time a hovering probe from the University of Montana. The zoology department of the University was as small as the area’s population, which forced them to turn to machines to aid in their research. Their hover probes could not stay aloft for months (or years) on end like aerial probes, but they could keep pace with the swift animals of the vast Canadian tundra. I somehow doubt these duck-billed beasts will be as swift as a Pronghorn.

            My first impression of the animals was that they looked like a cross between long extinct duck-billed dinosaurs and camels. Or perhaps the humps on their backs were closer in shape and form to that of a bison. Either way, they did store an abundance of fat on their backs. Their broad, flat snouts looked perfect for plowing through sand. Their lower jaw sagged quite a bit, almost like a pelican. I cannot picture any fish surviving long in a desert spring, so I will rule that out until proven otherwise. I wonder if they are used for digging.

            The animals’ tan hide stick out against the reddish sands. They were easy enough to spot out in the open. The aerial probe has given no indication of predators in the area, but even if they hid in the darkest corners of the eternally lit oasis, they would be hard pressed to take down an animal of this size. The hover probe begins to stream back its findings to my computer gauntlet. They were cold blooded, which was hardly a surprise. Any animal living in a region of constant temperature need not worry about maintaining their own, save for shedding excess. Sand particles caking their hides led me to believe the animals might escape overheating by burrowing somewhat. Their shovel-like duckbills should have little problem with that.

            The beasts proved me correct once they started digging for food. They used their jutting lower jaw to scrap a groove into desert sand. Groover is what I shall call them, at least until I consult my taxonomy files to find a smashing scientific name for them. I could tell the Groovers were not what one might call discriminating eaters. If it was plant, they ate it. The hover probe scanned the lead Groover’s head. They have many rows of teeth-like structures in their mouths. Initial scans puzzle me for a moment. I would be unable to tell without dissecting one, but their teeth are similar to the incisors on rodents. No, they are in no way genetically related to mammals (a basic scan of the skin can extract that much genetic information), but rather their teeth grow constantly, probably throughout their lives. Constant grinding of roots and tubers covered in sand would quickly wear down conventional teeth, and leave most Groovers to eventually die of starvation or hunger-related illnesses.

            One Groover took a bite out of a Hunting Pod’s spear-branch. A second branch quickly lanced out towards the Groover. The blow struck the animal squarely, but lacked the force to penetrate the hide. The animal showed no sign of discomfort save an annoyed snort. These certain explain some of the damage I have seen on a few Hunting Pods; they were partially eaten. To their credit, the Groovers did not take more than a few bites from each Hunting Pod. They did not eat in any one place for more than a few minutes. Their grooving did disturb another species of animal that I had no idea even existed.

            The new animal’s eyes sat on top of their heads, much like a frog, or perhaps a salamander. Given the way they wiggled out of the Groovers’ path, the latter struck me as apt. A mound on top of their head, between and ahead of their eyes, housed a pair of nostrils. This would allow the animal to remain underground for most of the time. I dub thee Sanphibians. I directed the hover probe to take a look at these Sanphibians. My first impression was one of predator. Their mouths housed at least a hundred sharp, spike-like teeth. Those teeth looked more suited to grasping than tearing, and the set of jaw muscles on the Sanphibians meant they might be able to simply crush their prey. They reminded me of bug-eating animals back on Earth. The oddest trait of the Sanphibians was spines protruding from their back. The hover probe’s sensors screamed venom, but I could not confirm that without an actual specimen.

            One of the red-skinned creatures wondered too close to the water. It turned out to be a fatal mistake. Like a flash of lightning, a larger animal launched itself from the water and clamped down on the Sanphibian. Neither I, nor the hover probe, could glimpse the ambush predator for more than a second. Its head comprised thirty percent of its body, and was lined with serrated teeth. I must admit, I was most astonished to find anything like a crocodile residing in the middle of a desert. Who would have thought an aquatic ambush predator could evolve here. Maybe this was just a land predator trying to cool off when opportunity knocked.

Day 7 at Hypnale

Day 7

            After two days in operation, the airborne probe finally located something large and alive. I order my lander to move a hundred kilometers starward towards the probe’s last location. Further reports from the probe indicate a natural spring in the desert. If life on Earth taught me anything, it was that where there is water there is life. The trip was short and uneventful. I spent a few minutes checking out the countryside at one of the consoles. I am certain a geologist would find the desert fascinating, but without any life, the land beneath the sun holds little interest.

            When I land at the spring, I am not greeted with a palm-infested oasis. Instead of tall trees, the only plants I see are either small, purple shrubs (rather similar to thistles) or these giant pods with spikes protruding from the ground around them. Upon landing, I am quick to scoop up another soil sample, as well as clippings from the thistles. I decided to avoid the pods until further observation. There is something about those spikes that look ominous. My instincts tell me to avoid them, and seeing how they have saved my life on more than one occasion, I am inclined to listen.

            Without surprise, I learn that the soil is teeming with microbes. Their basic structure is not that different from microbes found on Earth or Europa. Even the genetic material within the nucleus is arranged in a double-helix. I will need a more detailed scan to determine just what Hypnalaforms use for genetic material. The plant’s cellular structure is slightly different from what we know on Earth. The cell walls and chlorophyll are as familiar as my own face, but the secretions are very alien. As I postulated upon learning of the planet’s acid rain, plants on Hypnale do have a thin coating to protect them from the rain. The coating is rather thin on the thistle, but given the vanishing low chance of rain in these parts, that is hardly surprising.

            My first animal came into view just before lunch. It was house cat sized, and covered in scales the color of red sand. The animal moves cautiously towards the water, expecting an attack. At the time, I was outside searching for any bones. Watering holes have always been magnets for predators on Earth. It was a reasonable assumption here, yet no bones. Sensors detected traces of cartilage and skin, but not a single bone. My expression was one of major disapproval. When I ran a series of meteorological scans in the morning, there was no sign of rain lately. In fact, it would not rain often enough anywhere in the desert for the rain to eat away the bones.

            Perhaps I could study this animal if predators lurked nearby. They did, and came in the most astonishing form. I first noticed the spear thrusting through the air when I spotted a blur from the corner of my eye. In less than a second, the animal went from cautious to dead. The spear was far larger than anything a human could hurl. Alas, it did not come from any megafauna. Instead, the spear belonged to megaflora. I watched in morbid and scientific curiosity as the spear swung upwards towards the top of one of the stationary pods. With a jerk, the impaled animal slipped from the spear and into the pod.

            What could only be a branch of this predatory plant quickly returned to its place in the sand? I have observed a few carnivorous plants on Earth while in college, but never have I seen one make such a complex move. A Venus flytrap’s “mouth” was little more than a pair of specialized leaves. All they did was open and close. I move closer to the Hunting Pod as I dubbed it to find out if it is plant, or a stationary animal similar to an anemone. If a plant, I could only suspect the Hunting Pod hunted for nutrients it could not extract from the soil. Perhaps those Hunting Pods further from the spring even extracted their water via hunting.

            I took one step too close to the Hunting Pod in my search for knowledge. I was nearly knocked off my feet as a spearing branch glanced off the composite hide of my E-suit. I jump back to catch my breath, and try to slow my heart rate. Never before that moment was I so thankful for Hypnale’s toxic atmosphere. If I made the same approach in shirt-sleeves, I would be dead now. As soon as my wits return, I take up a new position just outside of range of the Pod. At least I hope I am out of range.

            I call up a full-scan on my E-suit’s computer gauntlet. The suit’s built in scouter runs every known scan at every known frequency on the Pod. All my eyes can tell me is that they are black (scans say they are actually ultra-violet) and that spears radiate outward. Smaller vine-like structures also radiate outwards, reminding me of the strawberry plant of all things. I call in the airborne probe to get a top view at the Pod. The trunk of the Pod turned out to be a hollow pit full of digestive juices. The animal whose death I witnessed was nowhere to be seen. I seriously doubt they could breakdown their prey that fast; to I conclude the animals are simply denser than the juices.

            The Hunting Pod had enemies of its own. The spear-branches form a radial pattern around the trunk, but within a minute of scanning, I already spotted three branches missing. Not only that, but the Pod appeared to have damage on its trunk. While I was searching for bones without success, I also failed to discover any foot prints. I find it difficult to believe that large herbivores could survive in the desert. In school, I was told that elephants roamed what was once the Kalahari Desert, and that desert was almost as dry as the Sun Spot.

            I shut down my E-suit’s scouter and decide to return to the ship. I further neglect my E-suits structural integrity at my own peril. The spear did not penetrate it, but it would not be wise to assume there is no damage. The airborne probe can hover above the Pod and continue observations while I checkout my hardware and run a little analysis on the data already collected. With a little childish delight, I find that I can hardly wait to see the look on some of the older scientists when I show them the new heights of plant evolution. If nothing else, my first encounter with the Hunting Pod will make for a good story.

Day 5 (on Hypnale)

Day 5

            Landing proceeded as smoothly as I planned. The ship had zero problems in landing itself. If it had, then I would be quite crossed for a while. Following that spell, I would likely be dead. For centuries ships have either landed or docked themselves, or participated in a semi-autonomous fashion. Despite the fact that there is no way an AI can screw up a landing, some humans prefer to take the controls themselves. They claim that it makes the ship feel like an extension of their own body. As far as I can tell, controls feel like controls; plastic, glass and composites.

            My survey of the planet begins in the Sunward Hemisphere, directly beneath the sun. I dubbed it the Sunspot Desert. A quick scan of the landing zone indicates the temperate can exceed three hundred fifty Kelvins. If life on Earth taught me anything, it is to expect life in unexpected places, even a desert that approaching the boiling point. Looking at the baked desert beneath the pink sky, I wonder if any water is to be found. I might have to deploy a drill probe.

            As soon as the lander was safely on the ground, I prepared for my first excursion. The Sunspot Desert was hotter than any on Earth, but at least here I will not have to worry about acidic rain. A standard environmental suit, a design that has existed for centuries, should have no problem radiating off any excess heat. After all, they were designed to operate the surface of Mercury, which ranged plenty hotter. It could probably handle the heat of Venus, but anyone fool-hearty enough to stroll the surface of that planet would need a specialized E-suit to handle the pressure.

            I launch the first of many probes. For such an open space as a desert, I chose one of the aerial probes, a simple balloon design from the University of Nairobi. Zoologists in East Africa used the design for observing the wildlife of the savanna. I do not expect to see any lions or antelope running around the desert, but the probe will zoom in on any fauna out in the open. My first thought would be to wait for nightfall, for that is what one would do on Earth in a similar setting. Lalande long since liberated Hypnale from the curse of day-night cycles. One of the reasons I chose the Sunspot Desert first was to studying just how life copes with it being high noon all the time.

            After I launched the probe, I decided to take a step outside. I have no way of telling just how long the probe will take to find anything. It might not find anything in this part of the world. While I wait, I might as well take some soil samples. I might not be as intimate with an E-suit as a Spacer, but I have no trouble donning the suit. I remember watching other researchers at Europa Station putting on an E-suit for the first time. I wonder if I was as equally clumsy. E-suits are solid pieces with servo-enhanced limbs. Not quite powered armor, but I imagine such formidable weapons would not be necessary here. At least I hope so.

            As soon as I step into the suit the HUD on my visor comes to life. Standard E-suits display nothing all that exotic, just information such as temperature, pressure, atmospheric composition, and most importantly, remaining power on the life-support system. I worry more about power than I do air. Millions of nanites inhabit filters in the suit, taking the carbon dioxide I exhale and breaking it down into carbon and oxygen. The carbon is stowed away for later removal. The best attribute to these nanites is that water in high concentration will deactivate them, so nobody needs to worry if they accidentally inhale the machines.

            There was absolutely no prompt or pageant when I stepped foot on Hypnale. My feelings were mixed to the occasion. On one hand, I was the first human to ever visit the planet and was hoping for a little fame. On the other hand, I had approximately three months to survey an entire planet and decided I should get down to work. No famous first words no live press conference, just me with a long scoop. Despite myself, I did take a moment to just observe the strangest world I have yet to visit.

            The bleached red-white rocks and pink sky were not the strangest sights on the planet. Actually, the strangest sight was not even on the planet. Directly overhead throbbed Lalande 21185, larger than life. I have never seen a sun take up so much space. Though it is much small in Sol, in terms of volume as well as mass, Hypnale orbited just under zero-point-one AU. Even then, it was far dimmer than what my biology evolved. I could safely look at the sun here. In a sense, it was more like looking at the never-blinking eye known as Jupiter from one of its moons than looking at a real star. It pumped out plenty of heat to compensate. My HUD displayed a temperature just twenty degrees shy of boiling.

            Without my E-suit, it would be rather intolerable. Even with it, I lose my enthusiasm for the desert. Nothing stirred within visual range, nor did it within range of my suit’s sensors. Is this part of the world truly lifeless? The only way I would solve this question today was with a sample of the soil. I scoop up several hundred milligrams and retreat to the confines of my lander. The soil analysis shows the dirt to be nearly desiccated. It had not enough moisture to even form a drop of dew. There were but a few traces of organic compounds, but no lifeforms. My first sample of Hypnale has proven a total bust. How can I put into the words the frustration I felt of being on a planet I know has life, but cannot find even a microbe? I decide to give the airborne probe a day or two to survey the area before moving starward; east just does not seem to be an apt direction on a planet without day and night.

Day 4 for Hypnale

Day 4

            One plus to be revived so late I discovered was that time flew much faster. After four days out of the pod, Venture Star was making its closest approach to Hypnale. They would not arrive anywhere near orbit, for their destination was a Lagrange point between the star and its third planet. They needed a place with plenty of raw material as well as open space for the warp gate. The asteroids there lacked heavier elements, but there should be more than enough aluminum, titanium and other light metals for the Spacers’ desires.

            The whole system was low in metals; hardly surprising given the low metalicity of Lalande. Though Hypnale was much larger than Earth in respect to volume, it was far less dense. Surface gravity would not be too alien for my Terran origins. It will feel much more like home than the half-gravity on the ship. Beyond that—Hypnale will prove to be a very alien world. As my time for launch approached, I begin to wonder if my time studying tubeworms on Europa has adequately prepared me to launch a major expedition over the surface of an entire planet. Eight light-years from home and a couple hours from landing was poor timing for a case of cold feet.

            Venture Star’s crew aided me in preparing the lander for its departure. Or rather they aided in preparing my own departure. I never did fit in on this ship. Even if I had not been born and raised on the surface of Earth, I doubted I could have fit int. Spacers were such a close-knit and closed off society. I could spend a lifetime amongst them and I have the suspicion that my grandchildren would be considered outsiders.

            The Captain was kind enough to visit me before I departed. “We’ll have the gate functioning within three months. If you’re not back in space by then, you can wait for the next ship to pick you up.” I do enjoy a good pep-talk.

            I wonder when the next ship will arrive. One thing was certain, it would not be the shipload of colonists I feared when I first set forth on this decades’ long journey. I suppose it could be worse. If this were an earlier epoch of history, the ship would be full of refugees, and they would not care how toxic the planet is, as long as their neighbors did not try to kill them. Months will probably pass before the next ship arrives. If academia decided to move at an even more glacial pace than usual (I should know, being part of it) then it might even be years.

            Months I could probably manage. I packed more than enough supplies onboard my lander to last for the three month period the Captain so graciously granted. As for years—the only way I could survive for years is if life on Hypnale were metabolically compatible with me. Euroforms have proven most incompatible with terraforms, and I see little reason why hypnalaforms would be any different. I wonder if I could grow any crops in Hypnale’s soil. Obviously I would have to bring it into the ship and a safer environment before I could make any attempt.

            One of the bonuses of living on my lander is that I never have to worry about packing. While on Venture Star, I do not have to worry about keeping the place tidy for company either. The few visitors to bless my dwellings did so for business, not pleasure. As the technicians left, I thanked them for their services. Their only response was a simple nod of acknowledgement. I gave up trying to get additional heating units installed. The lander was always chilly, having not fully warmed up after years at interstellar lows. I suppose having it the same temperature as space did prevent the fuel from boiling away. Unlike a starship, I am not blessed with infinite (or as near to infinite as to make little difference) energy. Sooner or later, Spacers will put vacuum-fluctuation generators on their city-ships and will then up and leave the Sol System for good.

            Their constructions last so long that the only thing I can think of holding them back is fuel. Surely they would not need any replacement parts until they reached a new star. My own people pride themselves in building to last. Though it took centuries to build, the orbital towers and ring around Earth have lasted for over a thousand years, and with little need or replacement. City-ships, on the other hand, we designed to last tens of thousands of years. Excessive perhaps, but it made more sense than say building a dam upriver from a major population center and design it to last only fifty to a hundred years.

            The order to launch came shortly after lunch. Launch might be too strong of a word. My lander was crammed into one of the Venture Star’s holds, so when the time comes, I am simply jettisoned like so much refuge. As the clock ticked away (Spacers do not believe in countdowns, something about them being a melodramatic waste of time) the only thing I could think about was weightlessness. I fervently hoped that the gravity field would not fail. I have only been weightless a handful of times in my life, and each time my stomach did its best to turn inside-out. It even succeeded on occasion, resulting in my last meal floating around the cabin.

            Since what was once a command deck is as near spotless as I can make it, I really do not feel like cleaning off the consoles during my flight to Hypnale. As I said, it was once a command deck where several crewmen were needed to operate the ship. Since all I was planning to do was take-offs and landings, I only need a single console to control the ship. Even then, I am pretty much telling the ship what to do, and the software takes care of the rest. I remind myself to be careful of what I tell the ship since AIs are known to be stupid at times. Do not misunderstand me, the AI has a vastly greater processing power than the human mind, but the old boys have such narrow minds.

            The ‘launch’ was even less dramatic than the lack of countdown. With my own space drive already powered up, I did not even feel the kick my lander was given. On the display screen, I watched as the interior of a cargo hold quickly gave way to the blackness of space. Stars are so much easier to see here than they are back home. The red dwarf sitting at the heart of the system is so faint that a planet at one A.U. might well be as cold as Neptune. Once I am clear of the ship, and by it, I give the order for the lander to fly towards Hypnale. As slow as the lander lumbers forward, I reckon I should be in orbit early tomorrow morning.