Jarad
stared at the screen. It was filled with the data from his lunar
observations and he was fed up of looking at it. He was fed up with
noting the positions of the two moons. He was fed up with the long
hours within the capsule with the port-holes (and the
starboard-holes) darkened against the glare of the sun and the
bizarre red cast to the light from the iron ore dust that covered the
planet. Actually, he mused, I'm just plain fed up.
He
looked at the final page of data – down to 729 possibilities –
but he was fairly sure he was on Mars, the next rock out from the
benighted planet whose inhabitants called it Earth. Imaginative.
How
long, he mused – he had plenty of time so musing was his favoured
mien this week – would it take to walk back? To long. What about
a scooter? Surely he could reprogramme the replicator to build a
space scooter, then he could ride home. It really was only a short
hop between the two planets.
What
a pity, he thought, that the civilization that had built that had
built the extensive canal network to irrigate this world in its
dying, drying days hadn't thought of or discovered the principles of
fixed line space travel. It would have been far easier for him to
repair and resurrect a space tram line than to build a scooter from
scratch. Now he just needed to calculate the battery size he needed.
Let's
see, he muttered, jotting the factors into a list with a unaccustomed
level of enthusiasm. Soon his spreadsheet was replete with items
such as required time of travel as a function of distance, air
supply, pay load and acceleration level limits.
Eventually,
Jarad fell asleep dreaming of roaring across space towards the planet
that held those who had humiliated him. Navigation, he dreamed, was
easy: turn right at the bright star and then straight on to morning!
Celestially
inspired by Light Speed Motor Scooter
©
2007 English Rose Literary Productions
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