The Io Encounter: Hard Science Fiction (Ice Moon Book 3)

by Brandon Q Morris

  This image faded too. It was replaced by a blue sky, with ragged clouds moving across it. A deep humming sound could be heard in the distance. Hayato saw a dark spot in the sky, between the clouds, that might be an airplane. Now the images were speeding up. It was an airplane. It raced closer and could be clearly seen now. Then its belly opened and a huge object fell out. It had a sulfurous sheen.

  The object fell downward, faster and faster. Suddenly there was a loud bang. Hayato flinched, due to it sounding like a gunshot immediately next to them. The display turned dark and then plumes of smoke drifted across it, which came out of a pistol held upward. He heard a pattering sound and then saw a herd of wild animals running across the African savanna—lions, hyenas, gazelles, elephants, hippos, giraffes. All of them were panic-stricken, fleeing in the same direction.

  “That was the last image. Afterward, the sequence just repeated,” Marchenko’s voice said. Hayato had to take a deep breath. He wondered what could have frightened these animals so much. Their faces seemed to express enormous terror.

  “As I mentioned, these were approximations. Images matching the engrams we found, analogies, so to speak. We don’t even know whether our method is scientifically sound. Perhaps we totally misinterpreted this entity.”

  “That won’t help us, Marchenko,” the commander interjected. “We have to work with what we’ve got. Maybe we should each describe what we have seen. Okay?”

  Hayato and Martin nodded, and Marchenko at least did not object.

  “Good. Then I am going to get started,” Amy said. “The first image was quite clear. Io is a specific place on our way. I cannot imagine this particular moon was selected randomly.”

  “We definitely agree on that,” Martin said.

  “Then the birth of my son was shown—our son, sorry. This could be something specific, like Io, or a metaphor. Correct?”

  Martin and Hayato nodded.

  “Let’s postpone deciding this aspect. Then there was the airplane dropping something like a bomb. That was definitely metaphorical. What could the bomb stand for? Danger!”

  “Or annihilation, war, the end,” Martin added.

  “You’re such a pessimist,” Amy replied. “Oh well, maybe for annihilation. I cannot detect any specific meaning in the last image. I see creatures fleeing.”

  “This might generally refer to danger, or maybe be a call to action—get out quick, annihilation lurks here,” Hayato guessed.

  “Or it just refers to a time frame, something like ‘soon,’ perhaps,” Martin added.

  “Did I forget anything?” The commander looked around.

  “I do not think the birth scene refers to Dimitri Sol,” Hayato said. “Something is being born, and the subsequent images explain it.”

  “You spoilsport, I wanted to add that summary,” he heard Marchenko say. “Basically, it is, ‘Where—Io. How—Birth. What—Danger. When—Soon.’ I deliberately selected the most conservative interpretations.”

  “But what does this mean for us? What are we supposed to do?” Martin scratched his head while asking these questions.

  “Now we are dealing with the appeal aspect of the communication. What does the entity want from us?” wondered Amy.

  “Amy, just spare us your Psychology 101,” Martin replied brusquely.

  He can get really snotty when he is in a bad mood, Hayato thought. Yet the commander remained calm.

  “If the entity did not want us to do something, it would not have put all this effort into sending us a message using its own technology,” Amy stated. “It had to assume we would investigate, as soon as we identified the location. Correct?”

  Nobody contradicted her.

  “Then the answer is clear. Let’s check what is happening on Io. The images are very dramatic. The entity must know something about what is currently happening there. It could be some danger that is threatening us, perhaps the entire Earth. We should find out.”

  “I would rather leave this to someone else,” Martin said. “We have already risked our lives often enough.”

  “Yes, that is true,” Amy replied. “But do we really have a choice? If the danger is imminent, mankind cannot wait for another 20 years to get another spaceship ready for launch. Furthermore, I don’t believe the being would send us to our certain doom.”

  “Believing is not the same as knowing,” Martin insisted.

  “Perhaps we should leave the decision to Mission Control,” suggested Hayato.

  Martin turned around. His eyebrows and the deep furrows across his forehead revealed his unwillingness to do that. Then he shrugged his shoulders. “Oh well, it doesn’t matter if we croak on Io. Let’s take a look at that moon as well.”

  February 21, 2047, Guantanamo Bay

  The sun was at its zenith when the helicopter landed. Major Shixin Tang began to sweat as soon as he took his first step onto the base’s concrete heliport. He walked directly toward the small shed that had a large sign reading ‘CHECKPOINT’ over its entrance. Shixin was tall for a Chinese man, and he deliberately took long strides to make it difficult for his companion to follow him. He did not turn toward Lining, but he could hear that she was staying fairly close behind him.

  It was only 20 steps, but in the tropical heat they seemed like five times that many to him. The door of the shed opened almost like magic when he was a couple of steps away from it. A cool breeze from the inside immediately hit his forehead. He smiled in expectation of relief via a perfectly air-conditioned room, and he was not disappointed. Compared to NSA Headquarters at Fort Meade, however, everything here seemed rather primitive. Shixin was not surprised, as he had earlier received an extensive briefing about what to expect. There had been several attempts to close the U.S. base at Guantanamo Bay, and every other president, it seemed, had wanted to abolish at least the prison camp. The terrorists were still here, as well as all the people who needed to be shielded from nosy reporters.

  “Has our package already arrived?” The Marine Corps officer, who was busy stamping his papers, did not answer Shixin. Either the officer was not allowed to talk to him directly, or he wanted to highlight the importance of the work that he was performing right now. Shixin knew this type of civil servant all too well from his homeland.

  “Sir. Your documents.” The officer gave Shixin not only his own papers, but also those belonging to his colleague. At least he knows who is in command here, Shixin thought with satisfaction.

  “Concerning your question, yes, the package arrived. I am authorized to tell you that much.”

  “Fine. When can we talk to the couple?”

  “We thought you would like to freshen up first, sir.”

  “No, that is not necessary. I would like to speak to our citizens right away. I hope they are being treated like guests, as was agreed upon.”

  The Marine Corps officer laughed. “Yes, sure, accommodated as guests of our wonderful establishment. You can come by later if you would like a tour of the numerous recreational facilities here.”

  What an asshole, Shixin thought, but he bowed politely and said, “I will gladly accept your offer. But as I said, I would like to speak to our guests beforehand.”

  “As you wish, sir. Please have a seat over there in the meantime.” The American pointed at two rickety wooden chairs at the front end of the shed.

  “Thank you, but I have been sitting too much the past few days,” Shixin said.

  The U.S. officer nodded and picked up the handset of an old-fashioned phone. Shixin was quite shocked—it must be technology from the early 2000s. The man spoke softly into the handset, paused, then nodded. Shixin did not understand what the conversation was about. Lining tapped him on the shoulder and signaled that she wanted to tell him something in confidence. He bent down slightly and she whispered into his ear.

  “The wife seems to be doing poorly. There is a doctor with her.”

  “How do you...?”

  “Hearing implant,” Lining whispered. Shixin was annoyed when he heard th
is. His superiors should have informed him about it. He decided to scan Lining for possible additional enhancements. If you do not do things yourself, he thought.

  It took about twenty minutes before another officer entered the room. The soldier who had received them saluted the newcomer.

  “I am General Miketta,” said the officer who had just arrived, “the commander of this base. I am honored by your visit. I apologize for making you wait. Now I am going to take you to see the Li family. I hope they are as glad about your visit as I am.”

  Pure cynicism, Shixin thought. Typical American. On the other hand, after such a long time in a strange country, without getting news from China, Mr. Li might be happy to have any visitor from home, even if it was the executioner. He did not want to lay a finger on the Li family, at least not yet, and if it did come to that, he would probably leave the task to Lining.

  “Would you please follow me?”

  General Miketta led the way. After fewer than a hundred steps they reached their destination. The general pointed at a nondescript door, in front of which a young Marine corporal stood at attention.

  “This is where your compatriots live.”

  “Good. Would you please leave us alone now? Thank you very much.”

  “Why don’t you have dinner with us?” the general suggested. “We do a great barbecue.”

  Shixin nodded noncommittally, realizing that he was getting hungry.

  The general signaled, the corporal opened the door, and the two Chinese officials entered.

  The room was approximately as large as a garage and smelled of industrial floor cleaner. There were no windows, only a loudly humming air conditioner, without which it probably would be next to impossible to endure living here. Mrs. Li was lying on a bed in the corner, while Mr. Li sat on a chair placed against the wall next to the bed. Both of them looked at him, and they actually smiled. They were really happy to see compatriots, but looks can be deceiving, and some people never learned. If anyone here was a danger to them, it would be he, Major Shixin Tang, or his subordinate Lining.

  Shixin greeted them in their mother tongue, Cantonese. He could speak both Cantonese and Mandarin fluently, without an accent.

  “How are you doing?”

  “So far, so good,” said the husband, who seemed to take the initiative. Bailong supposedly had been a well-respected construction foreman in the past. “But you see, my wife has health problems. The long journey, the strange circumstances, the uncertainty, all of this stresses her heart.”

  His expressions showed Shixin that he was very concerned about his wife. How touching!

  “Do not worry. Of course we also take care of our citizens if they are guests of a foreign power.”

  “We are what?”

  “You are guests of the United States of America. You will be treated well. You can live here free of charge and use all the facilities, though you are not allowed to leave this room.”

  “Is this a joke?” The man looked at Shixin with an incredibly naive expression of amazement. Bailong actually seemed to believe in the goodness of people.

  Shixin did not answer.

  “No, this is not a joke. I understand,” Mr. Li finally said. “What do they want from us? Why did you... kidnap us?”

  At least he was quick to understand. Well, why did we have him and his wife brought here?

  “We know your daughter, the People’s Liberation Army soldier Jiaying Li, is a patriot and will do anything required by her homeland. But we cannot take any chances. Therefore we need additional leverage, which you will provide.”

  “Leverage? You want to use us to coerce our daughter?”

  “I would prefer to use a different term, but factually you are correct,” Shixin replied. “Do you think this is a plan likely to be accomplished?”

  The old man held a hand in front of his mouth, as if he was afraid of his soul already leaving his body. “I...” He looked at his wife. “I guess so.”

  “That is good—for you, for your daughter, and for all of China.”

  Shixin’s conclusion caused the old man’s body to sag. Yet he still seemed to have enough energy for one last question.

  “And what do you want from her?”

  Shixin gave a benign smile. It did not matter what he said now. The Li couple definitely could not be allowed to see their homeland again.

  “Murder, nothing more.”

  Now he had told a lie. ‘Murder’ was not all that he intended.

  Shixin’s bracelet vibrated with an incoming call. Fate has quite a sense for the dramatic, he thought. He was really enjoying this little scene. He had looked forward to its outcome during the entire flight across the Caribbean Sea. He had known exactly what the old man was going to ask. Human beings were so transparent.

  Lining tapped him on the arm. He really must teach her to stop doing that. He knew he had to take this call, otherwise the caller would not have been switched through. It must be someone very high up. Shixin tapped on the display and heard the voice of Mike Butterfield in his ear.

  “What is up?” asked Shixin.

  “We’ve got a situation which suits us quite well. I wanted to briefly talk about it with you.”

  “What happened?”

  Butterfield explained about ILSE receiving a signal from Hydra, and Mission Control planning a detour to Io, a moon of Jupiter. This would make implementing their common task much easier. “Your person on board now does not have to get rid of the crew, you understand? We can greatly simplify the entire plan.”

  Simpler is always better, Shixin thought. He was grateful to Hydra for this welcome interference.

  February 21/22, 2047, ILSE

  “Good night, milaya moya, my darling!”

  Francesca turned sideways. In front of her she saw the wall of the cabin, which was also the exterior wall of the spaceship. Beyond it were millions of kilometers of nothingness.

  “Good night, Dmitri,” she whispered with a sigh.

  “Are you alright?” asked the voice from the loudspeaker. It sounded just like the Russian cosmonaut Dimitri Marchenko, who had been her lover just two months ago.

  “So-so.”

  “Anything I can do for you? Should I tell you a story?”

  “I do not know, Dmitri. I would like to spoon against your back, with my hand on your chest, listening to your breathing. It helps me to relax and fall asleep.”

  “I can simulate the sound.”

  “I know, and it is very nice of you, but...”

  “It is not the same. I am well aware of that.”

  “Sometimes, when we talk to each other and my hands are busy with something else, like weeding in the garden, I get the feeling you are standing behind me, and I sense your presence.”

  “I am here, really. I am always here, since I could not be anywhere else. I...” He paused, sounding as if he did not dare to continue the sentence.

  “Yes, Dimitri?”

  “Oh well, I do not want to keep things secret from you. I... Sometimes I use the life support system to get closer to you—such as forcing a gust of air from a vent, when I would love to put my hand on your shoulder. I can also manipulate the air in the room so it contains a slight scent of my aftershave.”

  Francesca sat up and suddenly did not feel sleepy anymore. “Are you serious?” The voice of Marchenko did not answer. Francesca’s thoughts were whirling.

  “This feels like... cheating,” she finally said.

  “These are gestures using the means at my command.”

  “I do not want you to pretend at being something that you are not.”

  Once again Marchenko did not react. Francesca imagined the ship’s quantum computer running at full power in order to provide an answer. “You know my voice is artificial. It is not created by the vocal chords of my body. I hacked Watson to make it sound just the way you were used to.”

  “Stop it. I do not want to know.”

  “You already know this, but you ignore it. Could you tell
me why?”

  “Because I want it to be you! Because I love you, that’s why!” Francesca was angry at herself for being so inconsistent. Marchenko was right. She should either love him the way he was now or give it up. However, she realized she had no choice. Not yet.

  “If I had a body, I would take you into my arms now,” Marchenko said.

  Francesca imagined him standing in front of her, spreading his arms, and how she would lean against his chest. A beautiful image, but something wasn’t right. “Your body is at the bottom of the Enceladus Ocean.”

  “But I am here.”

  “Sometimes I do believe it. Mitya, dearest, I want it so much. And then there are times when I feel I have lost you. Like a moment ago, when I lay down to sleep.”

  “I feel the same. My new life is amazing. I can look far into space. I feel the solar wind on my skin. When a micrometeorite hits, I feel a short stab. I can be in many places at once. I can have this conversation with you and at the same time play chess with Martin...”

  “You are playing chess right now?”

  “No, that was just an example. I am with you using 90 percent of my capacity. I need the rest to filter Watson’s communication with Earth. After all, I am still a stowaway.”

  “But as a human being, I have issues with that. Do you understand? I cannot do all these tricks.”

  “That is not true. Do you always control your breathing? What are your fingers doing while you are talking to me? There, you rapped on the table. Does this mean you are not completely with me while we are talking with each other? Of course you could not survive otherwise. A part of your consciousness is constantly searching for warning signs so you can quickly flee in an emergency.”

  Marchenko was right. Perhaps they were really not so different. Francesca would like to believe him.

  “My problem,” Marchenko said, “is my fear of changing too much. There are all these new impressions. And then there is the list of sensations now lost to me. I will never again be able to taste or smell something. While I can chemically analyze gases or solids, and deduce their smell or taste, I do not sense anymore whether they are delicious or disgusting. I can still try to remember these sensations, but what will it be like in two or three years?”