Combustion Read Free Page A

there’s nothing the gang in Houston can do about it. They have no control over this ship. They’re too far away.
     
    Judd works the hand controller, pivots the ship and takes a look at his surroundings. He needs to find somewhere else to land that’s about the size of two tennis courts side by side. There’s nowhere obvious; boulders dot the landscape. He sets Orion on a course to cross the crater.
     
    Judd’s more concerned than fearful. He had, for a long time, been fearful, but that passed after he saved the space shuttle Atlantis off the north coast of Australia. Of course, he isn’t flying a shuttle today so that is part of the reason, too. He hadn’t trusted the shuttle but he trusts Orion. It is a brand-new piece of equipment, specifically designed and purpose built for the task of interplanetary travel, without the Nixonian budget cuts and cobbled-together Frankenstein design that compromised the shuttle.
     
    The alarm trills in Judd’s ear again. Del kills the noise and pre-empts Judd’s question. ‘I’m looking for it.’
     
    ‘Seven-eighty, down twenty-five.’ Judd searches the landscape as Orion clears Yankee crater. There are boulders everywhere and still no place level enough to put down. He works the hand controller again, slows the rate of descent. ‘How’s fuel?’
     
    ‘Eleven per cent.’
     
    He’s used too much gas tooling around, avoiding Yankee crater then looking for a level spot. Judd doesn’t say anything but he wants to swear. Instead of dropping the f-bomb he says: ‘Okay. Four-fifty feet down sixty.’ He scans the scenery again. There must be somewhere he can land this bucket.
     
    ‘There.’ He sees a spot. It’s not too far away, looks wide enough, without too many rocks, and it’s level. He works the thrusters, angles Orion towards it. ‘Got an answer on that alarm?’
     
    ‘Still looking into it —’
     
    The ship shudders and the HUD projection flickers, then disappears from the portal’s glass. ‘I’ve lost Heads Up.’
     
    Del’s voice is panicked. ‘Guidance computer is down.’
     
    ‘Guess we got an answer on that alarm. Go with the back-up.’
     
    Del works the touchscreen in front of him, reads the news, his voice incredulous: ‘They’re both rebooting. It’ll take two minutes.’
     
    ‘This is over in one.’ Judd breathes out, really wanting to swear now. He knows what he must do. Without height or speed information he’s going to have to seat-of-the-pants it. ‘Going visual.’
     
    ‘Commander!’ Del’s stunned voice is an octave higher than usual. That one word tells Judd everything the forty-two-year-old is thinking, which is: ‘Dude! No. We abort-to-orbit. You don’t land on Mars without a guidance computer.’
     
    Abort-to-orbit is a last resort as far as Judd’s concerned. The guidance computers may have failed but Judd trusts this machine. All those dollars and man-hours demand that he parks this sucker safely in the Martian dust and mankind can finally say it has reached the planets. ‘How’s fuel?’
     
    ‘Descent quantity.’
     
    ‘Okay.’ It means Judd has ninety seconds to land the spacecraft - minus the twenty per cent he must save in case he needs to twist the red abort-to-orbit handle by his left hand if something unforeseen happens. He has seventy-two seconds and counting.
     
    Judd pushes Orion towards the only landing area that looks remotely suitable. He estimates his height at three hundred feet. ‘Give me remaining fuel time minus abort.’
     
    ‘Fifty-seven seconds.’
     
    Orion drops towards Mars. Judd scans his chosen landing spot and realises it’s nowhere near as good as it looked from a distance. It’s actually terrible and is littered with rocks. They’re not as large as the boulders surrounding Yankee crater but they’re big enough to be a problem if the metre-wide footpad at the end of one of the landing legs was to come down on one at an awkward angle. The legs have two metres of