Michael Adam was not happy. He kept crying and fussing all night, sleeping in snippets. Savanna heard rain falling hard for brief periods in the absolute blackness. After another long, sleep-deprived night, a faint glow returned to the tunnel. When the light had grown sufficiently, Savanna saw water pooled below the opening. She took a bowl and bailed until the water level was low enough to create a passable opening out of the ship. The dirt tunnel still remained small. On her belly, in the mud, she dragged more dirt into the ship until she reached a point where she could move it forward out of the hole. Covered in mud, her head slowly emerged into blinding sunlight. Blinking, she saw a grassy field surrounded by dense vegetation on two sides and a river barely visible, mostly blocked by the ship. She stood, savoring the sights, smells, and sounds. A small hill loomed at the fore, covered with long grass and brilliant flowering plants of various yellows, reds, and blues. Blue sky was above with puffy white clouds sailing cohesively above. As she squinted it occurred to her that she had not seen any sunlight in a year and a half by her time frame, which excluded hibernation. She had never seen this sunlight. A flock of small birds flew nearby, turning together by some hidden force, keeping them synchronized. She breathed deep the air scented with tropical vegetation, rain, and mud. It filled her with enormous happiness, exhilaration like she had seldom, if ever, felt. Walking around for half an hour, she found an area where they could camp.
She crawled back down the tunnel and brought the children out one at a time. It took all day to haul things out of the ship—mattresses, clothing, infant care items, and food. In her moving, she discovered a lantern that had functional batteries and was able to get around in the otherwise smothering blackness. Near sunset she made her last trip of the day. She stopped in Medical.
“Zhivago, are you functional?”
“I am partially functional. Power is low.” His words came slow and low in pitch.
“We have exited the ship, the babies and I.”
“Have you located the arrival kit?”
“No. Where is it?”
“It is stored in Engineering, port side, floor level bin 3. There are four packs. You should retrieve all of them.”
“Will I be able to access the hub computer if I could get power to the grid?”
“I have not been able to determine if it was damaged during landing. Otherwise, it would be possible.”
“Could you display pictures of my family?”
“I have insufficient power.”
“I cannot access the guide for land survival. Is there part of the protocol I have not completed?”
“Given the events, all protocol requirements are complete.” Zhivago’s voice deepened and slowed.
“Is there something I am forgetting?”
“There may beeeeeeeeeeeeeee…” Zhivago’s voice died in a soft squeal that faded slowly away. The ship that had been so busy, full of love, conflict, and noise was silent.
Savanna went back to Engineering and removed the four large packs one at a time, squeezing them through the small opening. When she entered to get the last one, the hip shuddered again, tilting the floor but this time lifting the aft up, making the exit larger. When she was finished, it was night. Both babies screamed back at the birds and crickets. A chorus of insects sang as she sat in a chair under a canopy, feeding one baby at her breast and the other with a bottle. A gentle warm breeze stirred the leaves. Tears slid down her cheeks from a heart conflicted with loneliness and relief, sorrow and gratitude that they were alive. If I had energy, I would be afraid, she thought just before falling asleep.