“If the Dandridge Cole was abandoned, who are the visitors?” asked Endymion. He still could not imagine what interest the crew of the Nellie Chapman had in a lonely asteroid, even one as odd as a century-old colony ship.
“The stories tell of people who refused to leave the colony ship and live there still,” the man said. There was a note of awe in his voice as if he had already decided the tale was true. “On the other hand, you’ve just proved that it’s still on the charts so anyone with a bit of initiative could have found it and taken up residence if they wanted to.”
“What’s going on?” asked Philyra, appearing next to Bellona, having been told to move from her perch by a spaceport worker returning from her lunch break. “I heard someone say a ship was coming in.”
“Aliens,” said Endymion. He glanced at Bellona and winked.
Bellona nodded. “Horribly mutated by radiation into flesh-eating zombies.”
“Yuck,” muttered Philyra. She glanced at the screen in front of Endymion and laughed. “Dandridge Cole! I never really believed that story of colony ships.”
“What?” exclaimed Endymion. Her casual acknowledgement of what he saw as a great mystery was a little disconcerting. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Weird Universe reviewed Waiting for Goddard a few weeks ago,” she countered, referring to the off-beat entertainment news show. “The cast said it was based on a true story but I thought they were making it all up. A hollow moon indeed!”
“Administrator!” called one of the workers. “We have radio contact.”
Verdandi walked to a window overlooking the runway and stared into the distance. Apart from the odd wispy cloud, the dusky purple sky was empty.
“Put it on loudspeaker, please,” she instructed. “Endymion!”
Endymion jumped. “Yes, Administrator?”
“Take your friends and leave,” she said, still facing the window. “I don’t want you here when our visitors arrive.”
Endymion’s face fell. The loudspeaker in the centre of the room crackled into life.
“This is Captain Quirinus of freighter Platypus calling Newbrum spaceport control. Can you hear me, spaceport control? Over.”
“Platypus?” remarked Philyra. “What an odd name.”
“Still here, Endymion?” Verdandi said impatiently.
Endymion reluctantly stood up to leave, then a thought struck him. “Is this about what was found at the Eden Ravines?” he asked slyly. “I may know something about that.”
Verdandi faced Endymion squarely and gave him a cold stare.
“You never cease to amaze me,” she snapped. “Stay there and be quiet!”
Endymion grinned and went to stand by the window. The operator seated near where Verdandi herself stood reached to his console and flicked a switch.
“This is Newbrum control calling, err… Platypus. Are you receiving me? Over.”
“Receiving you loud and clear,” replied the pilot. “We’re on our final approach, heading due west on a controlled glide.”
“Warning,” a synthesized female voice calmly interrupted, speaking from the Platypus. “Forward starboard undercarriage malfunction.”
“Ignore her,” said Quirinus. “Are we clear to land? Over.”
The operator looked up at Verdandi, who nodded.
“You are clear to land, Platypus,” he confirmed. “Are you having problems? Over.”
“We should be okay,” called Quirinus. The pilot was struggling to make himself heard above the swelling background static. “We’re coming in a lot faster than I would have liked. We’re leaking coolant from the brakes; the ailerons are also a little stiff from possible dust contamination. The AI also thinks we have a problem with the landing gear but I’m sure we’ll cope!” There followed a muffled conversation in the background. “Ravana said I should mention that we’ve run out of chocolate biscuits. Over.”
The operator nodded, not that Quirinus could see him. “Runway one is clear. That’s the big one,” he added hastily, just to avoid any confusion. “Over.”
“Here they come,” said Verdandi, looking out of the window.
A small dot had appeared high above the eastern horizon, one growing larger by the second as the incoming spacecraft screamed through the air at a rate only obtainable by dropping out of space onto a planet inconveniently rotating the wrong way. Within moments the purple and white dot had expanded enough for the watchers to see its short wings. As Verdandi, Endymion and the others stared out across the Tatrill Sea, they suddenly heard a loud crashing rumble as the speeding projectile dropped through the thickening atmosphere and overtook its own sound waves.
“What was that?” asked Philyra, startled. “Thunder?”
“Sonic boom,” replied the man at the next desk.
Endymion kept his gaze upon the incoming spacecraft, which was coming in low and fast. The freighter had four wings, one pair above another, seemingly made of a strange flexible material and quite unlike the rigid swing-wings of other mixed-mode spacecraft he had seen. As he looked closer, he was startled to see that only three of the four undercarriage assemblies had lowered into the correct position, for one of the front sets of wheels had decided not to join its companions. The operator too had seen the same thing and flicked the switch on his console once again.
“Scramble the fire engines,” he ordered. “All units to runway one.”
“Do you think they’ll make it?” asked Endymion, suddenly worried. This was one job he did not want to be sweeping off the runway.
“Newbrum spaceport to Platypus,” the operator called. “We have visual on possible landing gear malfunction. Please advise. Over.”
“I was hoping the computer was over-reacting again,” crackled the response. “Never mind. We’re running light so hopefully it’ll hold. Over.”
“I wish I could be that confident,” murmured Verdandi.
The Platypus was now no more than five kilometres away, then three, then one; skimming ever lower above the surface of the sea. It appeared the pilot was trying to put the wheels down as soon as possible so not to waste a single centimetre of the long landing strip. Nose high, the cylindrical hull of the freighter swept over the marker beacons at the start of the runway, clipping one of them with a tail fin to send it spinning away. Moments later, an almighty screech of rubber ripped through the thin air and the rear wheels met the ground.
“He’s doing well,” the operator murmured.
The Platypus tore at breakneck speed down the uneven runway, the freighter’s wings shaking violently. Endymion found himself holding his breath as he watched the front end of the spacecraft slowly descend onto the last remaining set of wheels. The freighter tilted a little to starboard as the weight settled upon its precarious support, but the undercarriage seemed to be holding. Endymion released a sigh of relief.
“What a landing!” he murmured.
The Platypus sped past the spaceport dome, the spacecraft’s main thrusters now in full reverse mode in an attempt to bring it to a halt. Verdandi moved to the next window to continue to watch its progress and Endymion followed suit. With smoke billowing from the undercarriage brakes, the freighter was slowing down but rapidly running out of runway. It finally came to a shuddering halt mere metres from the end, then promptly disappeared beneath the plumes of white vapour pouring from its wheels. The Platypus had landed.