Free New Earth by Ben Bova

morning, all,” said the astrobiologist. “It’s a good day to go exploring, isn’t it?”
    Jordan wondered if Meek was putting on a false optimism, too.
    Breakfast finished, Jordan and Meek made their way down to the bowels of the ship, to the hangar deck where the landing vehicles were housed. The feeling of gravity was noticeably lower here,closer to the ship’s centerline.
    Three sleek, silvery, delta-winged rocketplanes stood side by side inside the big, metal-walled hangar space. One side of the hangar was an air lock large enough to accommodate a rocketplane. Jordan saw that one of the four parking spaces was empty, where the plane that had already been sent to the surface had once been.
    One of the planes gone, he thought. Andthis is only our third day here.
    Their footsteps echoed off the metal deck and the bare hangar walls as Meek and Jordan approached the nearest rocketplane. Jordan could see his brother’s face through the windscreen of the vehicle’s cockpit.
    Eager as a puppy, Jordan thought. If it were up to Bran, we would have flown down to the surface yesterday or even the night before, ready or not.
    Clamberingthrough the plane’s hatch, Jordan made his way toward the cockpit, hunching slightly because of the low overhead. Meek, gangling right behind him, had to duck even lower. The plane’s interior smelled new, unused. That will change, Jordan told himself.
    They squeezed through the cargo bay, where a spring-wheeled excursion buggy big enough to carry six people was stowed, together with a pair ofinert robots. I hope they work better than the rovers, Jordan thought.
    The cockpit had six reclinable chairs. Brandon was already ensconced in the pilot’s seat, and the central screen of the control panel showed Geoff Hazzard’s dark, unsmiling face.
    “I’ll be standing by at the remote control panel here in the bridge,” Hazzard was saying. “Your vehicle’s programmed to land itself, but I’ll beright here in case there’s any problems.”
    Brandon nodded briskly. “How much of a lag time is there between you and this ship?”
    Hazzard’s eyes flickered once, then he answered, “Microseconds. If I have to take over, you won’t even notice a lag.”
    “Good.”
    “Ready to go?” Jordan asked.
    Brandon turned around in the chair and broke into a big smile. “Now that you two are here, Jordy.”
    Meek, hunchedover so much that his hands were clasping his knees, asked, “Where’s de Falla?”
    “Back in the equipment bay, checking out our biosuits and the other gear. Thornberry’s going over the buggy remotely, from the bridge.”
    “Shouldn’t de Falla be here when we take off?” Meek asked.
    “He will be,” Brandon said.
    As if on cue, Silvio de Falla ducked through the hatch, his dark liquid eyes large and round,his teeth flashing as he smiled brightly. “Field equipment checks out,” he reported. “Thornberry says the buggy’s ready. We’re good to go.”
    “All right, then,” said Brandon. “Everybody sit down and strap in.”
    Jordan slipped into the right-hand seat beside his brother. A tiny control yoke poked out from the instrument panel in front of him, and a console studded with levers and switches sat betweenthe two seats. As he pulled the safety harness over his shoulders he wondered if he should remind Brandon that he shouldn’t touch any of the controls. The ship flies itself, he knew, and Geoff can take over if he has to.
    He decided not to mention it. Brandon seemed happy as a kid in a toy store. Why spoil his fun?
    Turning slightly in his chair, Jordan saw that Meek and de Falla were in the twoseats behind him, fastening their safety harnesses.
    Eagerly, Brandon said to Hazzard’s image on the display screen, “You can start the countdown, Geoff.”
    Hazzard nodded gravely, then said, “Jordan, mission protocol says you have to give the word.”
    Jordan waved one hand in the air. “By all means, start the countdown.”
    “Okay,” said Hazzard,