No matter how good your scanners and video screens are, there is nothing to take the place of actually standing out in the open on a new planet and breathing deeply of its fresh, clean air. I filled my lungs to bursting point, held the breath for a moment and then exhaled slowly. After the re-cycled air inside the spacecruiser this stuff was as heady as wine.
I turned my head slowly, taking in the rolling hills and wide valleys that surrounded me. Quite by chance I seemed to have landed on one of the planet's high points from where I could look down in every direction. In many ways the landscape reminded me of the area around Hadrian's Wall in northern England on planet Earth - dry tussocky grass, a few stunted trees and views that, as the saying goes, stretched all the way to the horizon.
Beauty was something that my scanners hadn't shown when I ran the preliminary checks for surface temperature, atmospheric pressure and content and so on. I was pleased when the computer reported that those things seemed to be pretty much the same as on Earth. The only difference was a little less carbon dioxide in the atmosphere - and that could well have been due to our history of atmospheric pollution back in the twentieth century.
In fact, the planet seemed to be remarkably similar to Earth in many ways. Same size and mass, same sort of atmosphere, even the same sort of orbit and solar system. It was this particular similarity that had aroused my curiosity and prompted me to make this unscheduled landing.
I don't know if you are familiar with the propulsion system on these modern spacecruisers. I can't say that I am all that knowledgeable about them either. I'm just a user, not a mechanic. All I know is that they somehow use quantum indeterminacy to travel across the vast distances of space without ever exceeding the speed of light. Someone tried to explain it to me once by describing it as "cutting across the curves in space-time" and that's how I've imagined it ever since.
All I know is that you travel at enormous speeds for a period of time - hours, days or even weeks - and seem to get absolutely nowhere. Suddenly, however, if you just happen to be looking, you notice the stars sort of flicker or jump and you find that you are a light year nearer your destination.
The result is that both personal travel and the old fashioned paper letter have boomed, because these cruisers can get you or your message to your destination years before a radio message can arrive. For example: to cover the six light years to Earth was going to take just under six weeks - and that included decceleration. The latest machines can cut that by more than half but of course they cost that much more. I'm quite happy to plod along at an average speed of one light year a week.
The corollary is, of course, that in one of these cruisers you are totally on your own. Send out an SOS and you'll be either dead or safe long before it has a hope of arriving anywhere.
It was during one of these long, boring periods of waiting for the flicker that my eye was caught by this solar system that had exactly the same configuration of planets as our own. A week or so earlier or later, or a couple of degrees difference in my approach and I don't suppose I would have noticed a thing. As it was, from this angle all the planets and their satellites lined up exactly. Even the speed and direction of the entire system was the same as that of our own. It was almost as if a ghost copy of earth's solar system was following half a dozen light years behind.
My business at our colony on AC-5 had been completed more quickly than I anticipated. I had time for a little break and as my doctor was always telling me to take things more easily it wasn't hard to convince myself that I deserved this little lapse into curiosity. I pressed the necessary keys on the flight control computer and prepared for entry into the planet's atmosphere.
The entire hemisphere facing me seemed to be covered in cloud as I approached but my instruments assured me that there was land below so I just went straight in for the entry orbit and landing. Needless to say, the friction and heat as I hit the atmosphere blacked out all the instruments. I occupied the time by running the spatial co-ordinates through the computer database, but as far as I could tell no one from Earth had ever landed on this planet before.
By the time I was back on visual I had done one complete circuit and was back in the area of total cloud cover. The ship dropped down through the thick gray mist, its retro-propulsion unit pulsing smoothly, until we burst through the cloud base at about six hundred feet above ground. I could hardly believe my eyes as this wild, bare landscape burst across my screens.
I was too excited to mess around with cautious aerial exploration. As far as I could see on the screens the area was deserted, so I landed, opened the hatch and stepped out to be greeted by a cool breeze. For a while I enjoyed the change from the stuffy cabin of my cruiser and strode up and down, luxuriating in the room to stretch my legs. Soon, however, I started to feel cold and went back into the ship for my coat.
My binoculars, which I keep handy for navigation checks through the cabin port, were lying on the console beside the pilot's seat. I hung them over my neck and went back outside to examine this world in more detail. I raised them to my eyes and scanned slowly round the horizon, taking in the view.
My first impression that the planet was lifeless apart from plant life was corrected when I made out some sort of animals grazing on a distant fell. I watched them for some time, trying to gain some idea of the species but they were too far away to be sure. It was because of them, however, that I got my next shock.
The animals were spread out in a long line sloping diagonally down the hillside, so for once I wasn't just sweeping around the horizon. At the bottom of the slope, their thatch roofs and mud walls blending nicely with the hillside behind them, stood a small cluster of huts. I wasn't prepared for the thrill of excitement that shot through me as I realised that the planet was inhabited by intelligent beings.
I suppose I had better re-phrase that: after all, even the cattle were intelligent by some measure. What I mean is, beings who were cultured or developed, something like us. The small group of twenty or thirty huts were surrounded by what looked like a quite substantial stone wall. That indicated that whoever lived in the huts had developed a "tool" for defending themselves.
There was another indication of development - a thin thread of smoke that trailed up from one of the huts, showing that the inhabitants had at least discovered fire. Perhaps they were some sort of hairless mammals like man and needed fire for warmth. Perhaps it was another part of their defences against other, wilder animals. Perhaps they had discovered the use of fire for cooking.
I lowered the binoculars. At this distance I couldn't see the village with my naked eyes but when I looked through the glasses again the huts were still there. For a moment I toyed with the idea of jumping back into the cruiser and flying across to the village but I dismissed the idea as quickly as it came. Anything intelligent would probably die of fright if I suddenly appeared out of the blue like that.
I grinned to myself. There was always the possibility that they might take me for a god of some sort, manifesting himself in fire and smoke, and sacrifice all their young virgins to me. The thought had a certain appeal, but I had a better idea.
The last few issues of the Journal of Space Technology had carried a series of articles by Professor Chakravatti, the well-known astronomical theorist and space guru. His idea was that while intelligent life might exist somewhere in the universe, quantum mechanics or higher mathematics or some such nonsense proved that it could not be found anywhere within the reach of our present technology.
I could just imagine the stir that would be caused by a letter to the editor enclosing photographs of intelligent life just a couple of light years from earth! In the eternal conflict between the theorists and the men of action, this would surely be a blow for the practical approach.
To get the photos, however, I had to get close to the village, preferably without alarming its inhabitants. My plan was to bang off a few shots of village life and sandwich them between shots of the night sky, a technique that would have been more persuasive in the days of film cameras but which would probably still work with digital. With the astronomical views and the camera's time/date stamp, the doubting Thomases on earth could check the stellar co-ordinates for themselves. I went back into the spacecruiser and got out my camera and a fresh set of batteries.
Obviously to do the sandwich I would have to be out for two nights at least and if I didn't get near the village before the sun set this night, my excursion might be longer. I prepared some food and water and gathered a bundle of bedding. I also took my gun and plenty of ammunition and one or two little comforts or conveniences such as a small shaving mirror and my torch.
The last thing I did before leaving was to program the emergency computer to broadcast a call for help if I wasn't back in a week. At six light years from earth it wouldn't do much good but there was always the chance of a passing transport or something. I wrote a note indicating where I was going and left it in a prominent place on the console. That done I shut down all systems, stepped outside and pressed the button on the handset that closed the hatch and set the anti-theft alarm. Not that I needed the latter here, but you couldn't do the one without the other. I slipped the handset into my pocket and set off.