Now. In a moment. She followed Martin to the airlock. He kept turning back to look at her. Did he suspect something? Or was he just wondering why she was moving so slowly? How well did he know her? She hoped he did not know her well enough... and at the same time she wanted the opposite to be true. He had saved her once before.
Martin started to climb into the airlock. He did not just glide inside, which zero gravity would allow, he climbed down the way they had exited the airlock, keeping himself turned toward Jiaying, so he would not lose sight of her. Jiaying felt the pressure of the decision awaiting her. She would have to jump while he was watching. He would realize it was intentional, no accident. She slowed her steps even more, wanting to jump, and at the same time wanting to stay. She had maybe five seconds left. Four, three, two, she silently counted and then she gave herself a slight push and floated directly into the airlock. She simply could not kill herself in front of Martin.
“You wanted to jump,” he said after the airlock hatch was closed and they had opened the visors of their helmets. No one else could hear them now. She pressed her lips together and did not answer. Then she had to turn her back.
March 12, 2047, ILSE
Martin sat down on the toilet, sighing. Strangely enough, he could think best here in the WHC, even though the facility was not nearly as comfortable as restrooms on Earth. Most notably, the toilet seat itself was downright uncomfortable.
Currently, the rotation of the habitat ring provided something like gravity, but the toilet was also supposed to work in zero gravity. The hole he had to aim for was small, allowing excrement to be sucked downward by a partial vacuum. At the moment, the air pressure was not pulling on his naked behind—since everything fell down naturally—but this did not make the hole larger or the seat more comfortable. At least he did not have to strap down his thighs individually today. In spite of all these discomforts, the WHC was the place where he often found solutions to the problems going through his mind. In bed, he would continually turn from one side to the other, while the problems continued to grow in his mind instead of receding.
During the spacewalk last week he had seen what Jiaying had intended to do. She did not positively confirm his suspicions, but he was surely not mistaken, either. He could not help but remember his former girlfriend’s suicide. Jiaying had wanted to kill herself. At the time he had been prepared to take immediate action, and had lengthened his line and tensed his muscles so he could jump after her. He would have probably managed to get her back, as he had done during the outbound journey after her earlier mistake. He realized she had been unable to do it right before his eyes. While this was good it also worried him, since he could not watch her all the time. In fact, she was often alone by her own choice.
What has changed her so much?
Mentally, Martin went through the days since they had left Enceladus. Until early February, Jiaying acted quite normal. She had been exhausted and wanted to go home, but they all felt that way. Then, around the 7th or 8th of February, she had suddenly broken off their relationship. Martin wondered whether there was something that he had overlooked. Could anybody—could Jiaying—have made such a decision from one moment to the next? Shouldn’t he have noticed her gradually becoming more distant? He had always enjoyed being with her. Did he have to acknowledge that he really did not know her very well at all? Or had an external event provoked her decision?
He had already tried asking her for a logical explanation, so now he could only use a process of elimination. Who could best help him in doing this? There was someone on the ship who could recall precisely all external events. He would ask Marchenko. If there was some kind of causality, Marchenko would be able to find it.
Martin cleaned himself and then used his right hand to press the button to initiate the ventilation and flush functions. His excrement was first analyzed and then broken down to the basic materials. Tomorrow, he might be drinking the water that had been contained in it. The nitrogen compounds would be used as fertilizer in the garden. Standing upright, his knees were aching from sitting so long. He washed his hands and went back to his cabin. His shift would not begin for another two hours.
In the dimmed light of his cabin, he lay down on his bed.
“Marchenko,” he said out loud, “I’ve got a question.”
There was no immediate response. Martin imagined how the microphones in his room recorded and digitalized the sound waves. Then there must be some kind of discriminator, a program that determined whether this was noise or language. What was determined to be language was then sent to the voice recognition module. The module first tried to make sense of it and then evaluated whether the speaker was attempting to communicate with the ship systems or was just talking to him or herself. If it was a message for the ship, it had to be sent to the proper recipient.
In this case, it was Marchenko’s consciousness that was lurking somewhere between the quantum computer module and the main storage unit. Martin had been developing software for many years, but even to him it was strange to think of Marchenko being in there somewhere. With what did he occupy himself the whole time? Did he sometimes sleep? Was he distributed across the entire ship, or concentrated in specific places?
“Yes, Martin, I am all ears,” Marchenko answered after about a minute.
“I hope I am not bothering you right now. I have been wondering for weeks what caused Jiaying to change so much, but I haven’t found an answer.”
“I can well understand that.” Now Marchenko’s answer came more quickly. Martin imagined the scattered cloud of Marchenko’s consciousness floating closer to the microphones.
“I thought you might be able to help me eliminate all external factors.”
“Do you really want to do this?”
Marchenko was right. If they did not find anything, it ultimately might be his own fault, even though Jiaying insisted Martin was not to blame. In spite of that he had to know the truth, even though it might be painful.
“Yes, I do,” he said, trying to sound determined.
“And what kind of clues do you have?”
“It must have been February 7th, when she told me...”
“And before?”
“Before, nothing—I mean, everything was as usual. It’s hard to say. No unusual events. No fights, mostly discussions. But what couple always agrees?”
Marchenko’s laughter rumbled from the loudspeaker. “Sure,” he said. “And on the 7th, what happened then?”
“Jiaying spent the night from the 6th to the 7th in her own cabin. She had a morning shift then and mine was right afterward, so we didn’t see each other until late in the evening. And then she told me.”
“So we are dealing with the time period between the evening of the 6th and the evening of the 7th.”
“Yes, it appears so.”
“Just a moment, I am checking all the log files.”
Martin lay in the dim cabin, twirling his thumbs. He really hoped Marchenko would find something plausible. If there was a cause for Jiaying’s behavior, there might be a remedy.
“Well,” Marchenko said, “the official log files did not record anything unusual during the period in question. Somebody sent the spiders to do repairs on the hull, there was a small nitrogen leak in CELSS, Mission Control requested a status update, and the WHC in the third sector was clogged and had to be taken offline for two hours. The commander sent Jiaying to do the WHC cleaning, since she was available at the time. It was not too pleasant a task, but nothing to stress her too much.”
Martin sighed.
“Wait a moment, Martin, I am not finished yet. I also looked at the deletion logs. It is unusual for log entries to be deleted, so the deletion logs are almost always empty. The last time was when all of us decided to delete files concerning Amy’s surprising pregnancy, almost a year ago.”
Martin only vaguely remembered their long-ago discussion. Back then they had been so naive.
“So there is a current entry?”
; “Yes, exactly. Late in the evening of February 6th, a message from Earth was sent to Jiaying’s cabin.”
Martin sat up. He no longer felt tired.
“What was it about?”
“We do not know, since the message was deleted. We only know the recipient—Jiaying—and the time. We cannot even determine exactly who sent it.”
“Shit,” Martin said.
“Noted,” Marchenko replied, “but there is one more interesting detail—actually, two. Who do you think authorized the deletion?”
“The commander.” There was no other option. Only she could authorize deletions. Was she in cahoots with Jiaying?
“Correct. And this was not the only deleted message. Jiaying sent a message to Earth during her shift on February 7th. Then a new message arrived on February 25th, which so far she has not answered.”
This sounded alarming, but Martin was glad nevertheless. Maybe it’s not about me, after all. Something is going on here. Is it related to Jiaying’s clandestine activities? He told Marchenko what he had witnessed earlier.
“We cannot prove a direct connection,” Marchenko answered. “Yet that is definitely not normal behavior.”
“How should we proceed?”
“Basically, the commander decides what to tell us and what to keep secret, based on her judgment. She is not required to be open with us,” Marchenko said.
“This doesn’t mean we can’t confront her about it.”
“The question is whether that would help us. If she received orders not to let anyone know and we confront her, that would only stir things up. Then they would probably try to cover their tracks more thoroughly.”
“Could they do that?”
“The deletion log is hardwired and cannot be simply removed, because it is a safety feature. But whoever built the entire system might have ideas how to circumvent that.”
“And what would be the alternative to confronting her?”
“We could try to listen in on a transmission before it gets deleted.”
“Aren’t these messages encrypted?”
“Yes, but there is always a moment when they have to be decrypted.”
Martin nodded. “While Jiaying looks at the message.”
“Exactly. And while she is formulating her answer.”
“You really would be pushing the boundaries, Marchenko. That is a definite breach of privacy. According to the AI laws you could be switched off afterward, you know?”
“Yes, and that is why I would prefer to find a different way. I believe I can crack the encryption. For that I would not get the death penalty. We would just have to tap into the signal somehow.”
Martin wondered. His father controlled a powerful radio telescope on Earth. Should I ask him for help? “We could inform my father. Maybe he could find a way. Interplanetary messages are not my field of specialization.”
“Great idea,” Marchenko said. “And until then, we just keep quiet.”
“I am going to send him a message. You will have to encrypt it for me.”
March 13, 2047, West Virginia
The same generic elevator music as ever played softly in the hallway. The room where he was having his breakfast smelled of cleaning solution and floor polish, something he was used to. Despite all this, Robert Millikan was quite content. Since he had reestablished contact with his son, things were suddenly changing all around him. Sure, not everything was perfect. For one thing, he did not believe his son would quickly forgive him for having been absent from his life for so long. Nevertheless, things in general were starting to improve.
The best example was the behavior of Mary, the visitor center’s secretary. Lately she no longer chatted with him, greeted him, or even said goodbye, and it was now up to him to watch the clock in order not to miss arriving school classes. This all had to do with the two bagels with cream cheese he was just pulling from a paper bag. Georgina had affectionately prepared them for him this very morning. She was about 60, taught at a nearby college, and had visited here with a group two weeks ago. The peal of her laughter about his clumsiness in handling the microphone cable had been so cute he simply had to invite her for a casual date. And now they were already spending alternating evenings at either his place or hers. If his son Martin only knew—this was ultimately due to him!
And then Robert had stupidly told Mary about his new-found happiness. He was completely surprised at her reaction. He had always considered the flirtatious banter she used with him to be just good clean fun, nothing more. Several times he thought he had made it clear to Mary that he had no real romantic interest in her. Well, she would eventually calm down again. Robert shrugged.
Once a week he worked with the large dish antenna in the control room of the Jansky Lab. The timing worked out well, since Georgina regularly met up with some female friends. While the radio observatory was officially decommissioned, it still was one of the most powerful ones worldwide. Robert had tried to reintegrate himself into the research community, and people there accepted him with open arms. He offered a more efficient way for astronomers to get answers that would otherwise require a lengthy application process. Realistically speaking, he was a kind of measurement servant, but someone had to do the work. At least now there was a chance of his name appearing in some scientific papers again, if only peripherally.
He looked at his watch and noticed it was time to get ready for the next class. Robert rewrapped the half-eaten bagel, put it in his coat pocket, and walked toward the bus. He greeted Mary in the lobby. At least she smiled this time, but she did not say anything. Oh well, he thought, a few days from now we will be back to where she will call me when a school class arrives.
The students were well-prepared for their field trip, since the teacher apparently had made them start on worksheets beforehand. This excursion was part of their physics course, and they were currently dealing with electromagnetic fields. The students were so eager to ask questions in order to complete their worksheets he did not even notice time passing. The bus driver, who wanted to finish his shift, honked angrily. Robert had not yet shown the class the Jansky Lab, from which you could control all the antenna dishes.
He had the students march on the double through the almost-empty building. They were sufficiently impressed by the heavy door and the insulation. As time was pressing, he allowed them to record only one signal. Not surprisingly, they chose Titan. The headlines in the media about the discoveries made by ILSE were still fresh. He had even put a printout of an article showing a picture of his son underneath the transparent desk pad. Now he typed the coordinates for Titan into the computer. Of course he had known them by heart for a long time. A female student standing next to him pointed at the article.
“Is this your son?”
He felt himself blushing.
“Yes, how did you know? Do we resemble each other that much?”
“No, not at all.” She looked at his face and shook her head. “Not really. But our teacher told us about it. She said we’d get a guided tour by the astronaut’s father.”
Robert noticed more and more people had been booking tours lately. Yesterday there was even an adult couple vacationing in the area that had taken his tour. However, up until now he only considered the reason for this to be the amazingly nice spring weather. It never crossed his mind that he might be the real attraction.
“Could we see Titan now?” a student asked.
“Yes, of course, just a moment. I hope you won’t be disappointed.”
He explained to the group what he was about to do and what the result would look like. Then everyone had to wait patiently for a few more minutes. During this time Robert checked his private email account. He saw a lot of spam, a few requests for guided tours which he forwarded to the official address of the visitor center, and a message that required him to first use his private key. The sender obviously did not want anyone else to read it.
The sender’s address looked unfamiliar—someone at NASA whose name he had never heard b
efore. He opened the message and was glad to see it appeared to come from his son. Yet his joy was soon replaced by a certain skepticism. Martin believed he was on the track of something or someone and was asking for his help. He wrote about Jiaying behaving very strangely all of a sudden, breaking off contact with him, and having a secret conversation with some person on Earth. He quickly scanned the lines, for in a moment he would have to fully concentrate on the school class. One paragraph in particular caught his attention.
We need access to the encrypted communication between ILSE and Mission Control. You won’t have to break any codes or do anything illegal. I ask you just to do the following: Point the antenna at the current position of ILSE. Every time an encrypted message arrives on Earth, record it and send it to us in encoded form.
This actually would not be too difficult to do. The expected course of the spaceship was known, and he could easily preprogram the receiver accordingly. ILSE could not aim its high-gain antenna precisely toward a specific recipient, so any dish aimed at the correct position could record the signals. However, this only worked in one direction.
Robert Millikan was not sure if he wanted to comply. He needed time to decide whether or not to fulfill Martin’s request. First he had to get the students back to their bus. Afterward, as a goodbye present, they had given him a box of assorted donuts. Half an hour later he was back inside the control room. He picked up the phone and canceled his meeting with Georgina for the evening. This was a request he had to think about carefully, and the donuts would get him through the evening.
He leaned back in the metal chair in front of the desk and his computer. He wondered what was true—had his son become tangled in something he couldn’t get out of anymore? He himself never had any bad experiences with NASA. Why should the government organization suddenly launch a conspiracy?
The Io Encounter: Hard Science Fiction (Ice Moon Book 3) Page 8
