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[font=Agency FB]19/07/816, 23:54
The Endymion was once again flying alongside its parent ship, with all six ships of the convoy hanging in geostationary orbit over a small peninsular on a large continent. The small freighter had been set upon by the Carteret's technical crew as soon as it had re-moored. The pulse emitter was stripped out and stored, and construction materials replaced it. There had already been a reading taken on the proposed drop zone, making the bulky mapping equipment redundant on the second trip.
The peninsular had been chosen as an initial drop site because of the worrying discovery that the grass (christened Triodia basedowii by the Lovewell's resident botanist) that completely covered the plains, cultivated a potentially lethal bacterium labeled Staphylococcus effingo. The similarity it bore to the GRSA superbug was puzzling though. Already the grasslands had been nicknamed the 'Plague Plains', with the initial landing crew expressing great relief that theyd followed protocol and disembarked wearing hazard suits. The peninsula was located to the plains' immediate south, isolated from the dangerous grasses by a range of mountains that quite cut it off from the mainland.
***
Jake Howlette was busy in one of the Lovewell's minor laboratories, dissecting the carcass of the dead bovine. The head had been separated from the body and the skull cracked so the brain could be examined. From a biological standpoint there was no indication whatsoever of any sign of intelligence. What fascinated him however, was a paired set of glands found just under the tongue.
The creatures had been found browsing the Plague Grass, with seemingly no ill effect. The reason that was possible was now evident. He prodded one of the glands with a scalpel, watching as stinking mucus-like saliva was released. He'd already tested it, dropping a small quantity of the fluid into a Petri dish full of a culture of Staphylococcus effingo. He'd been able to watch the bacteria denature and perish. It seemed the bovine creatures had evolved a biological compound with amazing antibacterial properties. If the properties of the saliva could be pin-pointed to a single enzyme or substance, which could in turn be applied to other disease strains or indeed the GRSA bug itself, huge advances in medicine could be made.
He smiled to himself. It looked like just about everyone involved in this expedition could enjoy a hefty paycheck. The explorers, the biologists, the astronomers, the geologists, the pilots, the guards, the engine crews - everyone.
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Fire once again flared across the Endymion's hull as it dropped through the atmosphere for a second time. Descent thrusters flared spasmodically to alter the entry angle to, stop the little ship from burning up completely. Stressed heat reflectors glowed but otherwise did their job, making the comparatively tiny ship shine like a falling meteorite in the inky night sky. Slowly the roar subsided, the ship levelling off and beginning its controlled flight to the drop zone. The Clydesdale rapidly lost height, bursting through a massive white cloud, the Captain seeing the dull shimmer of a seemingly endless sea glistening below. The strip of land that was the peninsular was a matt black blot in the ocean that eventually attached to the mass of darkness that was its mother continent.
Before long the Endymion was roaring along the coastline, picking out the otherwise invisible terrain not too far below on the HUD to prevent a crash. A small flashing beacon painted on top of this indicated the drop zone, a level area at the bottom of a large valley. The zone would have good access to the sea, and the Lovewell's resident geologists had predicted a good level biodiversity in the ecosystem throughout the local area.
"Right, hold tight, we're going down." The Captain gripped the helm, and gently lowered the ship's bulk further and further down. The floor was as level as predicted, and would probably support a solid on solid landing. Three landing plates had already been deployed to give the underside of the Clydesdale a level purchase. The visual quality of sight out of the frontal viewscreen was further obscured by the clouds of dust and dirt that smothered the floodlights that had been switched on just moments prior. There was a tense moment of waiting as the ship hovered less than a meter above the ground, before closing the distance and dropping to the floor with a final burst from the landing thrusters. The co-pilot sighed.
"Well, thats the second time. I'll head out back and tell the brainboxes that theyre clear to go." The Captain okayed her in response. She got up and squeezed through the gap between the two pilots chairs and exited through a door into the rear of the freighter. Inside was a prefabricated box that housed five bunks, life support capability and various other essential systems. The Endymion would be unloading it along with some basic construction machinery that could be used to bolt the portacabin to the floor and dig irrigation channels and the like. After that, the Endymion's foreseeable future for the expedition would be as a pack mule to shuttle supplies to the floor teams and samples back to the orbital crews.
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Luke Darget watched the prefab for a moment, considering the fact that he was going to be spending quite a while in it - probably most of the foreseeable future. The Endymion was scheduled to depart in an hour, so he was busying himself by unloading everyone else's luggage. The other four and the pilots were arguing over how to best lock the prefab in place. Luke had other things on his mind.
Dropping the last satchel on the small pile, he withdrew a flashlight from his own bag, and shone it around the nearby area. They were located in a medium sized clearing, that was surrounded by a sparse forest. It was mostly comprised of moderately sized trees with thin trunks. He took a deep breath of the alien air and thought about it. Every planet had its own smell. Sydney was no different. He picked his target, a slight, insignificant looking tree with a ruler-straight trunk. Opening his bag again, he shuffled things around until he found the hatchet.
Pulling it out and tucking it under his arm, he made his way towards the tree, the beam of light bouncing as he walked. Standing at the base of the trunk, he realised could actually fully close his hand around it. Perfect width. Quickly shining the torch up into the yellowish foliage to make sure nothing was living in it, he gripped the hatchet's shaft with one hand. With a great thwacking noise, he sunk the blade into the wood, then cut a slightly smaller notch out just below that. Ponderously, the tree swayed then fell over. Someone shone a beam of light at him.
"Luke, what the hell are you doing?" they called.
"Don't worry, I'll be back in a moment," he replied.
Cutting off the branches that grew off the trunk, he was happy that he had a decent looking pole. He cut off the rough and jagged looking base, then tucking the hatchet back under his arm. Grabbing the trunk, he tried to lift it off the floor. It really was a very light and flexible wood. Slowly he dragged it over to the prefab, dropping it by the luggage. Happy that he didnt need the flashlight now he was back in the Endymion's spotlights, he dropped the torch and axe into his bags and pulled out a slightly creased square of material as a replacement. Two strings dangled from it. Almost reverently he unfolded the Bretonian flag. Having never been particularly good with knots, he took his time anchoring it to his improv flagpole. When he was satisfied he was done, he pulled it upright, the wood swaying alarmingly. But it held. The flag flapped limply in a breeze.
"Hey, what d'you all think then?" He said, grinning. The others looked around, with the Captain throwing a mock salute, which provoked a few chuckles. The first Bretonian flag had been hoisted.