Nano Bytes - A Collection of Short SciFi Stories

The Prototype, by Mark Warburton

"Ground control to Explorer I. Your data feed is dead, there's something wrong." That's the last message I got from ground control.

The prototype drive was working well after a daring EVA to reattach one of the vortex generators. During the EVA, the planet was so close I could almost stretch my hand out and touch the blue sky. It all went perfectly, and everything was well within normal operating parameters.

I've been stuck in this module for over a day now whizzing around the planet repairing things. Ground control were right, the entire control panel is on the fritz. Nothing is working right. I don't understand it. When I fired up the drive, everything went wrong.

We've been working on this drive for over a decade now hoping to break the light speed barrier and it looked like we were succeeding too. The possibilities for flight excite me, like those science fiction stories where instantaneous travel between worlds is a reality.

Five, four, three, two, one... the wormhole opens, despite the problems. Purple flashes of the exotic matter dance around the fringes. The spaceship speeds towards it but then everything goes black. This tin can is dark as hell, so I'm stuck here with my flashlight trying to get things restarted. They really should have installed a window.

I've finally restored the reentry systems and some non-optical sensors. The drive is fried–it's not even recognisable. If I'm reading things right, the module's in a decaying orbit and reentry will be a really bumpy ride. I suppose things could have been worse. I might not have been coming down at all, ever.

The hull vibrates, and a howl gets louder. The bulkhead smokes turning a dull red, then getting brighter until it's a blistering orange. The heat shielding has failed and I'm being cooked alive in here and there's nothing I can do.

I come round to the sound of pinging metal as it cools. How could I have survived? The craft's strewn everywhere in this desert wasteland. My chair inflated a protective bubble cushion of reflective film around me, but even that's broken and blowing in the wind.

A strange creature approaches me. It's much bigger than I am and a horrible shade of pink. It's got tools slung around its body. I don't have the strength to fight and everything is going dim.

I'm in some kind of prison cell. It's taken a long time to find out where I am. Apparently, the wormhole worked and I'm on another planet populated by backward pink giants. I've learned their language a little. All is lost. They don't know how to replicate my technology to get me home and they don't want to either. From what I can tell, I'm below the surface someplace called 'Area 51'.