The Shade Tree
“Now this is more like it,” First Watch Scanning tech Ophelia Watts announced. “This one is about 1.4 AU out from a large blue-white star, so it’s got a long day, looks like about twenty-nine hours, and a solar year of about four hundred and eighty local days. A body can get adjusted to that. It’s in a pretty circular orbit with not much axial tilt, so seasonal change will be minimal. It has one good-sized moon in an equatorial orbit to keep its orbit and tilt stable. Gravity is one point oh four gee; oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere, strong chlorophyll readings, surface temps in the temperate zone range from six degrees to thirty-four degrees. Two major landmasses, oceans over both poles, and covering a good part of the western hemisphere. No ice caps at the poles. I’m guessing ocean currents keep things mild.”
“So, a nicely forested, warm, friendly place,” Jean Barrett told Hudson Amole, who was once more on the Bridge watching the Scanning station. “Ophelia, how about fauna?”
“No homeothermic megafauna that I can detect. Lots of smaller indications. CO2 and O2 ratio indicate an Earthlike balance of producers and consumers. We’ll have to land to learn anything more than that.”
Jean turned to the client. “Well, Hudson, the passenger compartment on our shuttle will hold eight people with minor field gear. I suggest you, me, three of my Security troops and your three scouts.”
“Weapons?”
“Probably a good idea,” Barrett agreed. “Gomp, will you unseal the arms locker and let Mr. Amole’s scouts pick up their weapons and field gear? Then round up Mickey Crowe and Yvette Langstrom, I think they’re next up for landing duty, and get yourselves kitted up.”
“On my way, Cap’n. Mister Amole, if you’d come with me?”
“I’ll meet you at the shuttle port,” Jean called after them.
She waited until Amole followed Gomp off the Bridge and the portal sealed behind them, then turned to her Exec. “Indira, keep scanning the surface. Launch those two old Navy proxies we’re carrying, set one to orbit the equator, put the other in a circumpolar orbit, program them for terrain and climatological mapping. Scan around the system for any transmissions or any other signs of intelligent activity. Doesn’t have to be little green men – there may be wildcat miners, pirates or anyone else out here. If there’s a prospector in the system’s Kuiper Belt, I want to know about it.”
“I’ll see to it,” Indira Krishnavarna agreed. “You know, you could let Gomp handle the landing. He’s done enough of them.”
“And miss the chance to see an unsettled world first-hand?” Jean grinned at her Exec. “Not a chance. Captain’s privilege. Don’t worry, Indira, if it turns out to be a decent place, we’ll make sure everyone that wants to gets a chance to get a little mud on their boots.”
“Arming yourself?” the Exec asked.
“Of course. I’ll pack my gunbelt in with my field kit. You’re in charge, Indira; hold the fort until I get back.”
***
An hour later
Captain Barrett would have preferred to let Paolo Guerra or one of her other helmsmen handle the shuttle trip to the surface, but the size of the party and the capacity of the shuttle precluded that. Hector Gomp was an adequate pilot, but only just; she shoved him into the second chair and took the shuttle controls herself.
“Strap in tight, everyone,” she announced as she put on her headset and started the shuttle’s drive warming up. “This old shuttle has seen better days; the ride down can get a bit rough.”
In fact, the ride was smooth as gravity-well shuttle descents went, except for a few minutes passing through a thunderstorm front a hundred or so kilometers short of the landing site.
For the landing, Barrett had selected a flat, lightly wooded plain along a large river. Local sunrise had only been an hour earlier. The shuttle approached slowly from the south and circled a large meadow that sloped gently down towards the river.
“Landing scan,” Jean ordered.
“All right,” Gomp acknowledged. He bent over the small console at the second station. “Air composition is fine, nitrogen seventy-seven percent, oxygen twenty-one, argon point nine, carbon dioxide point zero four, balance various trace gases. Twenty-three degrees surface temperature, light winds out of the southwest, a few high broken clouds. No large animals in the area. I’m not seeing any toxins or known serious allergens in the local plant life.”
He looked up from the console. “Looks like a nice day for a picnic, Cap’n. Let’s have a look around.”
“Hang on, I’m putting it down,” Jean warned the others. She came in low over the trees on the western side of the meadow, flared once as the shuttle’s landing pads reached out for the ground. The small ship settled to the ground with a slight bump.
The Captain reached out to the panel and killed the shuttle’s drive. “All right, folks,” she said, “Here we are. Main hatch is disarmed. Gomp, you’re first out; Mickey, Yvette, back him up. Don’t take any chances. Mister Amole, you and I will follow my Security people out; your scouts can be rear-guards.” She stood up, picked up her gunbelt and buckled it on. Amole watched with raised eyebrows as she checked the load in her ancient .45, chambered a round, set the safety and holstered the gun.
“Expecting trouble, Captain?”
“Mister Amole, I’m always expecting trouble,” Jean told the client, “and so I’m never taken by surprise.”
Gomp had the hatch open. He poked his head out, inhaled deeply. “It’s a nice day, all right.” He stepped outside, followed closely by the other two Security troops. Jean and Hudson Amole followed.
Gomp walked a few meters off into the knee-high forbs of the meadow. Mickey Crowe moved off a few meters to the right, carbine at the ready; Yvette Langstrom moved left, likewise prepared for trouble.
Gomp pulled a small binocular out of his jacket pocket and scanned the treeline. “Don’t see anything moving. Looks like a nice place.”
Jean looked down at the ground. The meadow was covered with a grass that wasn’t really grass, knee-high broad-leaf forbs covered with tiny white flowers, and some small, woody plants that ran only ankle-high. Around the clearing stood trees, or at least plants that looked enough like trees to pass; tall, woody-looking plants with a crown of branches spreading in graceful arcs, each bearing tufts of round, dark-green leaves. The air was crisp, cool, with a faintly pleasant odor. Jean saw a few small flying creatures fluttering from tree to tree, but no other fauna was in evidence.
Hudson Amole walked out into the forbs. He took a deep breath and turned his face up to the sun, eyes closed. “This,” he announced, “is the place. This is my Utopia.”
“Nice name for a colony,” Jean chuckled.
“It suits,” Amole said. He looked at Jean and smiled. “That’s what I intend to build here. And look around! What a beautiful place! It even smells good. It suits, Captain; it suits. Utopia it is.”
“You’re paying the bill,” Jean agreed. “You certainly have the right to name the place.”
“I would like to bring my assistant and our prefabs and other gear down, Captain,” the Tarbosian said. “Can I trouble you to bring down our equipment?”
Jean thought for a moment, remembering the state-of-the-art gear Amole’s men had brought aboard. “If we take out the back row of seats, I think we can get your stuff down in one trip. I’ll fly it; Gomp, take Yvette, scout around into the woods a little bit. Be careful. Mickey, you stay here at the LZ, keep an eye on things.”
“You won’t object if my scouts accompany your troops, will you, Captain?” Amole asked politely. “I would like them to start getting familiar with the area, flora and fauna and so on.”
“Of course not. Until we are sure it’s safe, I’d appreciate it if you would stay in the open, Hudson, with at least one of my people nearby and armed. Mickey Crowe,” she indicated the tall, taciturn young Security troop who stood nearby with a carbine cradled in his arms, “he’ll take good care of you. You’re still my responsibility until we leave orbit.”
“There shouldn’t be any danger, should there? Your scanner crew said there were no signs of megafauna.”
“Something doesn’t have to be big to be dangerous, Mister Amole. An Earth leopard or a Hecation sand-cat can kill you easily enough, and the Zeddan desert bloodworm makes a cocoon out of its own spit that looks exactly like a sand-grape until you swallow it – then the worm chews you up from the inside. No, I’d just as soon you stayed in the clear until your troops and mine have had a look around.”
“I appreciate your concern, Captain. Agreed.”
Jean started towards the shuttle, but stopped, and turned back to the entrepreneur. “Oh, and Mister Amole – as we agreed? You have found your planet, yes? Think you can find another transfer chip?”
Amole smiled. He reached into a jacket pocket and extracted another bright-green chip. Jean stuck it into her datapad and looked at the screen. “Very nice.”
“I’m a man of my word, Captain.”
“I’ve no doubt. Gomp,” Barrett called as she stepped back into the shuttle, “You’re in charge. I’ll be back in three hours or so.”
***
In the forest
Three kilometers to the north, the pod of six creatures stopped. The hunt leader turned to the south, stretched tall and extended his sense-organ. A few moments before the group had heard strange sounds to the south. The gatherers reached in their pouches and extracted throwing-stones as the hunt leader stood tall, sensing, listening.
After a few moments, the hunt leader moved off towards a tall hill to the southeast. The hill would make an excellent vantage point.
To the north, a pod of eight was following their hunt leader to a ridgeline overlooking the river valley. Three kilometers to the east a third pod of seven moved to the top of a small hill to listen.
Sense-organs sniffed the air, hearing diaphragms were angled to listen and trios of large round eyes scanned the horizon. The pod members were quiet, waiting for the hunt leaders to act.
Something new was happening in their world.
***
Is this going to be an “Ewoks slaughter armored space troopers with rocks and sticks” scene?
I hope not, those crush suspension of disbelief.
Hopefully they don’t climb 2 trees, cut some ropes and smah a vehicle with logs that were way too big for them to have put up there.
That scene always bugged me, more so after I saw Mythbusters reenact it.
this was posted at the wrong hour I was still in the links.
I suspect you do daylight savings time on the wrong week.
I would rather do it never but if it is to be done the corect day is the last Sunday in October.
We used to do something similar until 2005 when we extended DST into November. Halloween is just so damn bright now.
Somehow, I don’t quit trust Amole and his equipment.
I suppose the temperature reading ruled it out, but atmospheric pressure could have been non-Earthlike. Venus has Earthlike gravity, but the atmospheric pressure would kill you even if the temperature and lack of oxygen didn’t. A magnetic field and ozone layer could also have been on the checklist to see if radiation levels were survivable for humans. A LOT of things need to be right for humans to walk around in just clothing.
I guess it also depends on how prevalent Earthlike planets are assumed to be. If they’re really rare and interstellar governments exist, I expect they would either pay big for independent stellar surveyors to find and document any Earth 2.0s they find, or have it be a primary mission of some agency within the government. (I mean, that was the primary mission of the original Enterprise).
they seem to trust their scanners a bit much… but this is in keeping with old school scifi I suppose.
It always worked for Star Trek.
“I love scanning for life forms!”
“Turns out the bone-liquifying horror didn’t register on our scanners.”
“Turns out the bone-liquifying horror didn’t register on our scanners.”
You mean the Moopsy?
Thats how you pick up the ladies
That and some High Karate.
*Hai
“It’s illegal in 9 countries!”
I just see and hear Ray Walston raising his antenna.
I played https://squaredle.com/?puzzle=pasta:
*248/248 words (+108 bonus words)
📖 In the top 3% by bonus words
Tricky one.
forbs
Learned a new word today.
Just caught up on this installment – thanks, Animal!
I had a downright idyllic weekend.
Saturday: last match of the season at Kayaderosseras. Not my best performance, but the day was just perfect outside: bright, clear, blue skies and orange leaves, a bit on the chilly side but that’s fine when you’re actually doing things.
Sunday: Extended time at the dog park in the morning. Being below 50 degrees meant Lily was all sorts of energetic, so we had twice the walking distance and she got lots of wrestling in. I got some videos for next Sunday, even if they’re not the best. When we got home, she took a nap so I played some video games. After that, I went out and mulched the leaves when the ground was no longer a tinderbox, I laid a fire in the collapsable brazier I got for my birthday, and sat in a camp chair to watch it burn. This was Lily’s first fire, and which she showed no interest in getting closer to it that I was she didn’t seem afraid of it. She’s extremely good about taking cues from me in new situations. The camp chair was low enough so that when Lily sat next to me her head was at the perfect scratching height.
Country living at its finest.
I got confused because I initially misread the opening sentence as “downright idiotic weekend”. Makes for a very different expectation.
But are you really out in the country, that area is awfully suburban.
1. My particular patch of that suburb is 2/3 covered with a tree canopy.
2. Country living does not necessarily require living in the country (though it can be awfully hard enjoying a fire with a dog on a brisk autumn day inside an apartment building.) Likewise, if a rural resident never leaves his smart house which is furnished with all apple products and relies on streaming entertainment and food deliveries, is he living a country lifestyle?
it identifies as out in the country.
Also: next season we’re adding a pistol caliber carbine division, including those chambered in .22LR.
is he living a country lifestyle – look are the buffalo roaming or not.
I haven’t seen a buffalo in person since I moved away from Tulsa. I remember the burgers being tasty though.
Pie – The Buffalo never roamed east of the Appalacians, Not within the past few centuries anyway.
Speaking of rural and buffalo: the solitary restaurant in Vian had Indian tacos on the menu. They tasted exactly as I remembered them.
Which type of Indian do they put in the tortilla?
The hilarious part of that is the spices would be right at home in India, and what makes it “Indian” is that there is no tortilla.
https://hilahcooking.com/indian-taco-recipe/
Folded in a tortilla is the definition of taco. Without a tortilla, you cannot have a taco.
who died and made UCS taco czar?
Oh yeah, folding an Indian taco is a terrible idea. It is much easier to eat with a knife and fork, but it can be eaten flat if you’re really careful. Typically there’s no attempt to make the vegetables stick on top, so it’ll be risky.
On the Earth 2.0 speculation
Earth 1.0 is the metal planet, mostly a ball of metal and heavy metal with trace amounts of lighter elements clinging to the outer surface in trace amounts. Those traces of the lighter solids form a very thin skin of scum floating on the metal ball with the trace gasses barely clinging to the thin scum. There are a few tiny bumps of solids on the surface wrinkles that poke out of the small amount of water that has clung to the outside of it as well.
People who think the universe is all about them: “Are you kidding me? Do you know how vast the oceans are? How huge and majestic the continents are? What are you talking about?”
“Do the math. If the Sun were a Yoga ball the earth would be a BB 97 steps away from the earth. This whole vast, majestic planet is really just a speck of dust. If the Sun burps our entire planet would vaporize in the blink of an eye and no one in the universe would notice. That is how significant and simultaneously special we are.”
We may not even be that special. How many sun-like planets are there? Countless, that’s how many. How many have planets? Probably all of them at some point in their life. How many earth like planets? I would guess, given what I see, about 1:9 to 1: 12.
The universe is likely teeming with life. Given what we see intelligent life is very rare to non-existent.
earth like planets in the Goldilocks zone with enough water and a stable climate and not bombarded with meteors, on a stable star with oxygen based life could be rare… quite rare… we don’t know of one yet, but our capabilities are low
Oh, I forgot to mention, the main reason we have life is the fact that we are a metal planet: The magnetosphere is a big deal, at lease as important as water.
We call our conditions ideal for life cuz we evolved here in these conditions and places suitable for us may be rarish, but for life generally? Not so much. Other conditions could serve the purpose of magnetosphere or water. It isn’t hard to imagine critters living in various hydrocarbons because we have found such things here.
The term ‘Goldilocks’ only applies if one means ‘life like us’.
yes but the topic was started with Earth 2.0 not strange life in any form.
I just contradicted myself, didnt I?
Take another shot: If not for the magnetosphere life would probably be here but take very different forms.
Ok, that’s fair.
The rules here shaped life. Those rules hold true everywhere. That’s my first assumption.
Life in any form probably is cell based. Given the nature of cell reproduction non-terrestrial might be ….well upon further thought the conditions alien life could evolve in could result in wildly varying forms. On the other hand they would probably be a lot more exotic than we see on sci-fi stuff…just people with funny bumps on their heads and too much makeup….but less exotic than we might imagine, i.e. recognizable.
If intelligent, like our own intelligence, their thinking would be founded in their environment and perspective. I still say that since a universal rule seems to be ‘all life exists at the expense of other life’, by the time they have developed the kinds of social structures and technology needed to find us they would have figured out how to get what they need by mostly skirting that rule…and to have figured out that the cost benefit analysis of war and conquest will have flipped for them.
In other words the octopi people from Snoklaxia VII (their tentacles are digitized so watch out for them, they have really sticky fingers) would have more to fear from us than us from them.
Well, it is election season.