"Here goes nothing," Tate sighed. "CT8, do you read me? CT8, please respond."
Three hours had passed and the technicians were confident that the craft should be in range for visual contact. There was nothing, however; only static.
"Try modulating the signal. Try every frequency," Stella instructed.
The technician manipulated a control panel. "CT8, come in. CT8, this is Carpathia, do you respond?"
There was a loud hiss of static, a crackle and then - something! A faint voice? Stella and Tate shared a look, hardly daring to hope.
"CT8, please, do you read me?" Tate repeated. "Please respond."
Another deafening static hiss emitted from the speakers, followed by a quiet, distorted voice. "Carpathia? This… 8… respond..."
"CT8, we are having trouble hearing you. Switch to channel 492," the technician replied, twisting dials on the comm panel. "CT8, are you receiving us?"
Suddenly the view screens burst into life. After a bright shower of interference, a woman's face appeared on screen. "There you are!" Relief was evident in her voice. "Carpathia, this is CT8. Do you read me?"
Around the ops room the sigh of relief was palpable. Tate's face broke into a smile. "Yes, CT8 we read you loud and clear. I am President Richard Tate of Forthaven, Carpathia; this is Stella Isen, Head of Protection and Security. To whom am I speaking?"
"Acting Captain Jayne Williams," the woman on the monitor grinned. "Am I happy to see you, Carpathia!"
"Likewise. We had given you up for lost." Tate replied.
Jayne's smile faltered. "We've had a difficult journey."
"How many are in your crew?"
"A little under one thousand."
Tate glanced at Stella. "We expected ten times that."
"It was difficult, as I said. A virus swept the ship, soon after we left Earth. We suffered catastrophic losses."
"I am sorry to hear that. We have had some experience of that here."
"I'm transmitting the ship's log, President. I have kept it up to date as best I can. The virus wiped out almost the entire crew. I was elected Captain and we recruited and trained our current crew from those left standing. We might be a bit unorthodox, and very behind schedule, but we got here eventually."
"Better late than never," Tate smiled. "How is the ship?"
"Fairly good. Some damage to the thermal shields, nothing too major."
Tate's heart sank with familiarity. "You will need to fix that before you attempt your approach. We've lost previous transporters on entry with similar issues."
Jayne nodded. "I'll get a team on it. We're not specialists, President, but we'll do what we can."
"It has to be repaired, Captain. I cannot begin to stress how vital it is. Send your stats to my team and we'll see what we can do to help from here."
"We've managed to get halfway across the solar system so far on our own," Jayne raised an eyebrow. "But, I appreciate the help. I'll send the details across."
"How are your people?" Stella asked.
"Mostly in good spirits. We're a tight unit, those of us still remaining. Many have lost their family and friends. They're hopeful for a fresh start."
"That's precisely what we can offer on Carpathia," Tate smiled.
"They'll be pleased to hear that." Off screen, someone handed a data tablet to Jayne. "Ok, I have the full damage report here. I'll send it across. I need to organise a repair detail and prepare the crew for landing. President Tate; Stella; I'll speak to you soon. Over and out."
"Over and out," Tate spoke as the view screen fizzled into darkness. "A ragtag crew, by the sounds of things," he murmured as he turned to Stella.
"President, they're sending across the log and damage reports," a technician called.
"Forward them through to my office. Stella, put the word out to the team to begin preparations for the arrival of one thousand new settlers. And try to keep Julius out of the way, if at all possible."
"Do you think they have a chance?" Stella asked, grimly.
"You heard the woman; they made it this far. I wouldn't bet against them just yet."
Cass's head nodded towards his chest, jerking him awake from his doze. He breathed heavily, yawned and wiped his hand across his face, before getting up and stretching his long frame. It had been a mistake to go to the bar before his shift.
He wandered around the president's office to try and help himself stay awake. He hated offices – he would much rather have been outside under the stars, even in the middle of the cold night. He checked his watch; 2am. He sighed and yawned again - five more hours to go. The President had set up a 24-hour rota, so that there would always be a member of his most trusted team available should the CT8 crew need to speak with somebody. Cass was under strict orders to wake Tate should anything important happen. Not that anything would. He'd taken over from Stella at midnight and there had been no contact from CT8 since 5pm. They were too busy patching up their ship with whatever they could find for the final approach. Cass felt his stomach turn. He already knew what the outcome was going to be, and he didn't want to think about it. He wished he had another beer.
A technician poked his head around the door. "Coffee?" he asked.
"Thanks, yeah," Cass smiled, and then sat back down behind Tate's desk, closing his eyes once more.
"Is this President Tate's elite PAS Team in action?" a woman's voice giggled. "Impressive!"
Cass's eyes started open. The view screen on Tate's desk had come to life and Jayne was watching him, a smile on her face.
"Oh, err… right. Hello," Cass stumbled, glancing at his watch, which now read 3.20am. He'd dropped off again. On the desk in front of him was a cup of coffee, obviously left by the technician. He took a sip and grimaced – it was cold.
"Oh dear. Hard night, is it?" Jayne teased.
"Sorry, I just…sorry," Cass sat back, now wide awake. "Cass Cromwell, Protection and Security. You must be the famous Acting Captain Jayne Williams."
"Famous? I don't like the sound of that," she smiled. "I'm sorry to wake you."
"Do you need Tate? I can get him."
"No," she shook her head. "No, I just…" She sighed. "I couldn't sleep. I just thought I'd see who was about. It's nice to know you're down there, you know?"
Cass looked at the face on the screen; a woman, somewhere in her 30s, with a large, kind smile. She looked tired, which was unsurprising really, given the circumstances. He smiled back. "You can talk to me if you like. I mean, my friend Fleur says I'm a crap listener and a bit of a smart arse, but I'm the best you're getting tonight."
Jayne laughed, and he liked the way her eyes flashed with mischief. "Okay, Mr Smarty Pants PAS Officer. In the absence of any real company, you'll have to do."
"Oh well, I'm honoured. I think."
"Don't get too cocky, I said you'll do. It's a choice between you and the automated waste disposal unit on here – and the waste disposal doesn't give me any cheek," she smirked.
Cass reached towards the monitor. "Well, I could just flick a switch and you'd be off…"
"Well I could just open an airlock and drop a space rock on your head..."
They both laughed.
"Actually," she said. "I do have a really important question to ask. Vital to the success of the mission."
Cass sat forward. "Yes?"
"Do you have alcohol on Carpathia?"
He grinned. "We do. Beer. It's not bad."
"Thank God for that!" Jayne exclaimed. "This lot might mutiny if they got down there and found no booze."
"I'll buy you the first round when you arrive," Cass grinned.
She sat back, raising an eyebrow. "That's not bad going. I've not even landed and I'm already on a promise."
Cass felt himself blush. "I... er... I meant..."
She laughed. "Only joking, Mr PAS Officer."
"I don't mind," he added quickly. "I mean, I'd be happy to… take you for a drink, I mean."
She cocked her head, regarding him. "You're on. But I'm warning you, it's been seven very long years."
"Without a drink?"
"Without anything," she smiled. "Hope you can keep up."