Telos: Part 2

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I had to move to the centrifuge tube. The centrifuge tube or centrifuge accommodation module or simply CAM provides artificial gravity. The outward centrifugal force of the gigantic rotating tube would stimulate gravity to protect astronauts from nausea, osteoporosis, and hallucinations. I wanted to update the reports and the recorder. I wanted to doze off even though I was ‘asleep’ for two years. Some how I made it to the centrifuge tube switched it on and dozed off…

I had the strange feeling I was being shaken up from sleep. And it was true. I must have been sleeping for hours. I turned off the centrifuge tube and noticed that the ship was shaking in real and violently too. I noticed my voice recorder slowly moving, accelerating towards the front. I stared at it blankly, then it came to my mind: gravitational force! Real gravitational force! The ship was approaching Telos. It must have entered the atmosphere. The air resistance was shaking it up, probably setting the ship on fire.

I took my voice recorder and ran towards the controls. Two times I fell flat on my face. I had to literally climb down to the controls. Somehow I managed to push myself to the seat and strap my seat belt, and then I gazed at the screen. The word WARNING! appeared in red letters and at the same time the siren sounded: possible collision in twenty minutes. The ship was nose-diving. The friction must have peeled off the heat resistant tiles and set the ship on fire, and might blow up before it reaches ground. I survived the death by cold to yield to the death by fire? The ship had a very bad infrastructure. In 2740 AD, Integra still doesn’t have many resources and it is still a poor colony. Here I was paying the price for it, by death. Davis was already dead. I switched on the rocket boosters and the autopilot, and then I rolled up in the seat.

I wished I would lose consciousness, but didn’t. I was mercilessly kept awake every second till the twentieth minute.

The screen gave a view of the terrain of the planet. Wavy patterns on yellowish land: a desert. The auto pilot had adjusted the thrust pods to slide the ship over the terrain. And maybe the parachutes are open. I was bracing myself for a violent crash. I waited and then it happened.

The slow jerking was given away to me being tossed in my seat. I was afraid the seat or the belt straps will snap but luckily that didn’t happen. I could feel my organs being thrust against my ribs. Above everything I could hear my heart pounding like a gunning engine. The initial tossing had then given way to a roller coaster ride. I could picture the ship sliding over the dunes, for miles. Suddenly there was a loud roar of an explosion. Then another. Then a large whiff of hot air that burned your skin like a lobster in a pan, poured into the cockpit. Then finally, I lost my consciousness…

I didn’t know how long I had slept. When I woke up I was moist all over with little grains of yellow sand sticking over me. I felt terrible. The ship had tilted to one side and I was dangling from the seat held only by my belt straps. I was hungry too. I was thinking how all the sand came in. Probably the airlock from the mid-deck might be opened in the impact or perhaps it was the emergency exits. I tried to grasp the edge of the seat, but I came to know I had something else in my hand – my voice recorder. For two days this was going to be my logbook. I tucked it under my belt, unbuckled my seat belt, and jumped out of the seat.

I tried hard not to lose my balance in the hot sand. They were all over the place. A pungent smell hit me. I had vomited a bit over my suit. I wiped the last drops of the revolting viscous yellow liquid from my chin.

(To be continued)