Here's the second submission by Hazen Wardle.

The Return

The pilot of the Hummingbird approached the wormhole with caution. The sky lit up with the

emitted energy from the swirling, storm-like vortex. Massive generators situated on three remote

asteroids drew their power from fusion based power plants. The asteroids, unmanned and some one

hundred miles apart and a half-light year from any other heavenly body normally were shrouded in

complete darkness. But now, upon activation they were fully illuminated by the wormhole’s emissions.

Captain Janet Leeron had, only moments ago, accessed their data-net and confirmed her security codes

and clearances with the onboard limited AI’s operating the three asteroidal generators.

Confirmed, now the AI’s would individually start their own portions of the wormhole generator.

It was a process that, under normal circumstances, would take mere minutes, though in this case this

wormhole had lain dormant for a long time. It had been over fifty years since the last returning ship

from Druaston passed back through this wormhole.

Unneeded, the AI’s were instructed to power down to bare operating levels, primarily to

maintain an open communication channel for possible future use.

It had taken over five hours for the AI’s to fully power up. Latent systems unused in those fifty

years were slowly activated, and they were only activated if deemed fully safe.

This would be the most crucial part of the trip. If even one component on any of the three plants

failed the wormhole would not be accessible. For this reason Sam Popodopolous II, physics PhD and

fusion specialist was along for the ride. It was his job to monitor the triple power-up, and it would also

fall on his shoulders to fix anything should the need arise.

Fortunately for the small crew of the ‘Hummingbird’, the three power generators activated

without a hitch, though they had all held their collective breath in anticipation. Fifty years lying dormant,

in the bitter cold of deep space, could wreak unknown havoc.

Toni Vandergraff, navigator, was having second and third thoughts about this whole

excursion. “I don’t know Captain,” she voiced her complaint to Leeron, “Something just seems wrong to

me.”

Captain Leeron put her hand on Toni’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Lt. Everything will work out.

You’ll see. I just need you to do your job, ok?”

“OK, Ma’am,” Toni agreed, though still quite unsettled. “I’ll do my job. I just thought I better let

you know something seems strange to me.”

Janet Leeron nodded and thanked Toni, thus ending the conversion. Tony hustled out of the

captain’s quarters and returned to her station at the helm. There she sat for an hour, pouring over her

notes and data. The onboard computer could calculate the proper coordinates and speeds as well as

triangulate the exact entry locations easier and quicker, but she simply felt better double-checking the

figures herself.

Satisfied, she called to the Captain via the communicator on the console. “Everything is set

Captain. Popper has verified the safety of the generators. The course is plotted, and when you give the

command, we can get on with this expedition.

Now, here they sat, staring at the entrance to a wormhole unused for generations. Would it still

lead to the same place? Would it still work? Many questions were voiced by the crew, and many more

remained unspoken.

Normally, Janet—both Captain and Pilot—would delegate a procedure as routine as this to her

co-pilot, Tom Iverson, but the excitement was too great for her. With the ship in semi-auto pilot, she

eagerly eased the stick forward, lining the hummingbird up with the swirling vortex.

“Everyone ready for this?” She called out. “Hold on to something, cuz here we go!”

Responding to her delicate touch, the Hummingbird slowly eased forward, and then in one

sudden streak of light, it shot into the heart of the wormhole.

The transmission was instantaneous, and the small ship quickly emerged from the other end of

the wormhole, also suspended in the center of another three generator-bearing asteroids. A faint blue

star hung in the distance.

“Is that ME18011a?” Sam ‘Popper’ Popodopolus asked of the star.

Antonio Peck nodded before answering. “It is—at least, it should be. Five decades is nothing for

the life of a star. It’s doubtful it has shifted position more than even half of a degree.” Immediately he

set about running tests and verification programs to confirm the star they were watching was indeed

ME18011a or not.

In the short 2 years of human occupation of the system, the star, ME18011a, never received a

real name. The only habitable planet had been named Duraston, and the single moon, 1/3 larger than

Earth’s moon, had been named Katistok. Like Earth’s moon, Katistok had no viable atmosphere, and

though the planet was temperate and the air breathable, the land was barely livable. Choked with fast-

growing vines and other plants covering over ninety percent of the few land masses, it proved to be

too big of a battle for settlers. They spent more time clearing away the creeping vines than they spent

planting crops or mining. Meanwhile, the colony on the moon, Katistok, had been successful for two

years. Pre-constructed glass domed cities had been set down on the surface, and thousands immigrated

from the crowded Sol system. Much like the gold rush of 1849 to California, Katistok too became

overrun with get-rich quick mining prospectors.

Unfortunately, a severe epidemic had broken out. Unknown whether it was brought into the

Duraston system with the immigrants, or if the strain had lain dormant in the Katistok soil, what was

known was that it was devastating, wiping out over three quarters of the population in less than three

weeks.

The people were evacuated and the system was abandoned, leaving the domed cities on

Katistok barren, as the moon orbited slowly around the blue planet Duraston.

The dead were evacuated via unmanned drone ships, the survivors quarantined aboard their

own vessels, leaving a pre-built civilization ready to inhabit, if only a cure and a vaccine could be

discovered.

Now armed with the long awaited vaccine, Janet Leeron, grand-daughter of the only remaining

survivor, was returning to her grandfather’s home on the moon of Duraston.

The Hummingbird orbited the moon, scanning the surface for any indications of life, though as

expected, all scans returned as negative.

Gently she eased the ship down onto the surface, landing the Hummingbird on a pad separated

from the main dome. Anyone entering the abandoned colony would be required to traverse the lunar

surface. Even though the ships airlock could dock directly with that of the domed city, Captain Leeron

decided to play it safe and keep the ship away from potential contamination.

“Suit up folks! Let’s go see if we can make this place safe once more!”

Thirty minutes later five white suits lumbered slowly across the cold, barren surface of Katistok.

The airlock door was shut tight. Janet cautiously moved over to the control panel, but there was no

power.

“I was afraid of that,” she muttered over the radio to her companions. “That just leaves us with

the manual over-ride.”

Mounted to the opposite side of the door frame was a hinged metal box with a simple padlock.

“Manual controls are inside this box,” Janet declared, pointing at the box. “Where’s the key,

Antonio?”

Antonio, fumbling with fingers rendered overly-fat buy the environment suit, opened a pouch

velcroed to his suit. Peering inside he removed a small flashlight. Flicking the light on he further

searched the pouch. Discovering nothing, he gasped.

“What?” Janet demanded to know.

“I forgot it.”

She pointed back toward the ship, and sounding every bit the mother that she was, she

said “You march right on back there and get it, mister!”

“No, I mean I forgot it. I left it on the nightstand back at the hotel.”

Surprised, Janet was unable to speak. Without that key they may not be able to complete the

mission.

Tom Iverson, co-pilot spoke up. “But, that was back on Earth! Before we even left!”