RAW SOURCE: Maf: A Brief History of the "Original Colonists" — Part Two

URL: https://perryjones.medium.com/maf-a-brief-history-of-the-original-colonists-part-two-8ef78ef40cec Published: Jul 12, 2022

⚠️ Known corrections (creator-confirmed):

• Landing distance from landfall: article says "200 miles" — actual canon is 280 miles.
• Planet diameter: article's in-story sensor estimate says "~100,000 miles" — actual canon is ~56,000 miles.
• Gravity: article's "1.1–1.2 gees" estimate is essentially correct — canon is 1.0987 g.

Preserved below exactly as published; corrected figures live on the Ark Royal and Maf (Planet) canon pages.

Content (close paraphrase, unfiltered)

The Ark Royal (187,000 aboard) swings toward the Moon to use its gravity for a slingshot, having survived the Russian missile strikes; the Philadelphia was destroyed (20,000 dead), but the Ark Royal's computers report "No damage" despite quivering from two missile impacts. Millions on Earth weep as the ship departs.

Nearing the Moon, sensors detect a nuclear explosion on Earth — Berlin. Captain Patrick McHenery reacts with dismay ("They did it, they bloody well did it"), retreats to his quarters. More explosions follow. Ship's doctor Roberta Huntington arrives to report good news amid the crisis: the first baby born aboard the Ark Royal, son of Anita and Eric Jones, named Perold Jones. The Captain is heartened by this news.

Days later, officers review reports and long-range camera footage showing "a multitude of nuclear explosions" across Earth. Commander Thomas Bretson (second-in-command) doubts anyone could have survived; Chief Engineer Lt. Commander Rebecca Carmichael holds out hope. The Captain declines a sedative from Dr. Huntington, insisting they must focus on the future rather than what was left behind.

The ship accelerates under constant 1-gee propulsion, scanning ahead for habitable planets. Within the first ten days, a dozen babies are born (mostly premature but healthy) in addition to Perold Jones.

33 months later, alarms sound: sensors detect a huge candidate planet, initially estimated over 80,000 miles in diameter (Jupiter-sized) but with anomalously weak gravity for its size — computed at roughly 1.1–1.2 gees, when a rocky planet that large "should" register roughly 1,000 gees. The Captain orders repeated diagnostic checks to confirm this surprising result. Propulsion Officer Commander Naerus begins rapid deceleration (up to 1.75 gees) for a flyby and eventual orbital approach.

Confirmed data: ~100,000-mile-diameter Earth-like planet, gravity 1.1–1.2 gees, 70–80% water coverage, squarely in the habitable "goldilocks" zone with liquid water. The Captain, visibly moved, orders deceleration increased to 2 gees. Naerus calculates an orbital insertion achievable in five months using gravitational drag from other planets in the system plus a brief 3-gee deceleration burn. Science Officer Lt. Commander Thui Ng suggests the name "New Hope" for the planet; the Captain approves.

A month later, passing within 11 million miles, sensors detect city lights on the planet's dark side and primitive telegraph-level radio emissions — the planet is already inhabited. Hydrosphere measured at 78.5%, average temperature ~20.55°C (69°F). The crew prepares for a hard 3-gee deceleration burn, planning to begin surface shuttle operations in four months.

Four months later, after 83 hours at 3 gees and 9 hours at 4 gees deceleration, the ship approaches New Hope for orbital insertion. Passengers and crew strap into crash couches. During the maneuver, Propulsion Officer Lt. Thomas "Tomtom" Davis reports critically limited thrust from the maneuvering drives — the ship cannot achieve orbit and is now in an uncontrolled descent. Commander Naerus confirms: damage from the Russian missile strikes three years earlier has left the main drives at roughly 10% power, with systems failing across the ship.

Naerus proposes a last-resort plan: firing the ship's retro rockets and the rocket engines of all the shuttles still mounted on the hull simultaneously, stern-first toward the planet, to slow the descent enough to survive atmospheric entry. The maneuver is extremely dangerous — if the shuttle engines burn through their mounting hulls too fast, their fuel could explode and destroy the entire ship; too slow, and their weight would drag the ship down too fast regardless. Estimated casualties from the maneuver alone: roughly 1,000 killed, up to 5,000 injured, out of nearly 300,000 aboard (counting all babies born during the journey).

The retro rockets and shuttle engines fire simultaneously. On the ground, observers on Maf see a huge blazing comet cross the sky, unaware they're watching what could be the final moments of 300,000 lives. Temperatures rise sharply aboard ship; explosions are heard and felt as shuttle sections burn away and aerodynamic forces tear at the hull. Commander Naerus reports the ship will hit water roughly 200 miles east of the nearest landfall (thousands of miles from the next landfall west) and will sink, due to hull integrity loss concentrated in unoccupied engine areas.

40 minutes into descent, the Captain calls "Brace for impact" as the ship hits the water; the superheated hull flashes water to steam, power fails briefly before emergency lighting restores. No leaks are found in passenger/crew quarters, but the ship is sinking in water roughly two miles deep — survivable pressure-wise, with a plan to convert interior spaces into submersibles and reach land within one to two years.

As the ship continues sinking stern-first (engine compartments flooding and accelerating the descent), Commander Bretson warns of a hard bottom impact in about 20 minutes, expecting rearward sections to crush or snap off, potentially costing a couple thousand more lives. 18 minutes later, the Captain again calls "Brace for impact." The ship hits the ocean floor hard; the engine section buries itself over a hundred feet into the mud and separates entirely from the rest of the ship amid tearing metal. The Ark Royal finally settles on the bottom — on the planet at last, albeit two miles below the ocean surface. The hard work of survival now begins.