“Yeah. I reviewed the all of the ship’s main systems before checking the antimatter feed and hull-stress indicators. We’re all set.”
“Good.”
Once the engines were shut down, there would no longer be any force pushing against the ship, thus removing their ‘gravity.’ This was the main source of work that had dominated his life for the past few of days. His tasks ranged from mundane reviews that ensured that all loose items were stowed, to the more critical analysis of hull compression and frame expansion models. Despite his rank as chief engineer, though, his work was basically done now. Nadya was the propulsion specialist, and would be running the show from this point forward. Aside from being Kurt’s wife of fifteen years, Nadya was one of the top scientists in the field. In fact, the antimatter drive was in large-part her design. It had been said more than once that the Magellan was more a piece of Nadya and himself than Earth’s first star ship.
Kurt scanned the oval room and the six workstations lining its perimeter looking for Nadya. It took a full couple seconds before he spotted her working with her assistant Pierre Tremont at the station furthest from him. They were completely engulfed in their work.
Kurt started turning back to Jack and Palmer, when Nadya caught sight of him and called out, “Kurt, I need you over here.”
He navigated the crowd, and on reaching her said with a smile, “How may I be of service?”
Too busy to notice his attempt at humor, she answered flatly, “I need you to work on monitoring the power feeds as we begin shutdown. Watch the fuel rates.” Pointing at a graph on her display, she continued, “We want them reduced at this rate. Also, I need an engineer to directly monitor hull stress. Claire’s available isn’t she?”
She didn’t give him a chance to answer before she turned, located Claire at an adjacent terminal, and without another word, jogged over to get her started on her new task.
“Two minutes until scheduled shutdown.” The computer announced.
Kurt moved to an empty terminal and brought up a display of the planned power reduction rates. Instead of a hard shutdown, the engine thrust would be reduced slowly. The idea was to minimize the shock to the ship’s structure. The graph in front of him specified the rate at which the antimatter flow would be decreased. Near the end of the process, the power of the magnetic fields constraining the stream would be cut back as well, lowering the reaction efficiency and reducing the thrust even further. A small red arrow at the top of the graph indicated the current fuel injection rate of two grams-per-second. Along the bottom was a timer counting backwards: it read one minute and thirty-six seconds.
The noise in the room subsided as people began concentrating on their respective tasks. The complexity of the shutdown procedure lay in making sure that as power was reduced, the magnetic fields focused the fuel streams symmetrically into the interaction zone. Even a minute deviation in either the matter or antimatter flow would result in an off-center thrust vector, and send the ship spinning.
The computer’s announcement, “One minute until shutdown procedure commences,” quelled the remaining conversations.
“All systems are ready,” Pierre called out.
“Confirmed,” Nadya said loudly, “we are ready. Computer, commence at zero count.”
“Understood Lieutenant,” the machine answered. During all formal operations, the computer reverted to using the crew’s ranks and titles when addressing them. Kurt was sure that it was a deliberate, subliminal attempt to reinforce the command structure and the authority of the officer in charge.
“Five seconds…four…three…two…one. Shutdown process commencing.”
Unlike engine ignition, the end of this countdown was anticlimactic. He heard and saw nothing. The only sign that anything was happening was the slow movement of the arrow down the curve of his graph: the flow rate was now down to 95%...90%...
Kurt searched his senses, trying to detect the feeling of his weight leaving him, but felt nothing. The seconds went by slowly, and the room was silent except for Nadya’s periodic announcements.
“Thrust is down to eighty percent,” she called out. A few seconds later she said in the same, semi-urgent tone, “Seventy percent.”
Kurt could feel it now, there was definitely a difference. Between the loss of weight, and his own excitement, he felt a rush of adrenaline. The displays in front of him though, indicated that the rush was wholly unnecessary: Everything was proceeding normally.
“Forty percent,” she called out. Then, “Thirty percent.”
A series of deep, resonating groans rolled through the ship as its beams, having been compressed under their own weight for years, finally began to relax. The eerie chorus of moaning metal nearly drowned out Nadya’s subsequent announcements, and prompted Kurt to glance suspiciously at the ceiling and the walls. A primal part of him was hoping the ship would hold together. He knew better – the sounds were normal and the decompression was expected – but he couldn’t suppress his slight anxiety. Finally, the noise subsided leaving them in a brief silence that was broken by the computer announcing, “Shutdown is complete. Hull integrity is nominal.”
Kurt’s feet begin to lift from the floor, prompting him to slide them into a pair of foot restraints.
“Janet, what’s our position with respect to A832?” Jack asked.
“Seven-thousand kilometers.”
“And our relative velocity?”
As Janet worked at her terminal to calculate an answer, Kurt brought up a display of their course projections. The plan was to move to within four-thousand kilometers of A832 and send a reconnaissance mission to explore the body. They were particularly interested in a crater he’d nicknamed ‘ground-zero’ – the likely location of the impact that created the orbital debris field.
“We’re drifting toward A832 at six meters per second,” Janet finally answered.
“Very good. Use thrusters to move us into a four-thousand kilometer orbit.” Jack paused for a moment, and then said, “Kurt, we didn’t get much of a read on small debris orbiting A832 at low altitudes. Check on this.”
“Will do,” he answered.
“Nadya,” Jack continued, “what’s the status of the main drive unit?”
Kurt didn’t listen to the answer as he initiated a series of active radar scans. At this range, the results were almost immediate. There was a strong echo from A832 itself, followed by a barely detectable secondary echo. He repeated the scans and confirmed the presence of a sparsely populated ring of scattered debris, and then called out, “Jack, the main debris cloud has a diffuse tail encircling A832. It looks like it covers an altitude from two to four hundred kilometers above the surface. Beyond that it looks clear. We should be fine with our planned orbit.”
Before he could hear a reply, Janet announced, “Captain, I’m beginning the approach sequence.”
Kurt felt a gentle tug to his left as Janet fired a set of rockets, rotating the ship to face the asteroid. A few seconds later there was an equally gentle tug to his right as a second burst stopped the rotation. Almost immediately after came a light, but sustained pressure pulling him to back to the floor; the ship’s auxiliary engines were accelerating them toward their target. It wasn’t anything close to a full Earth gravity, but it was enough that he was no longer weightless. As a challenge to himself, Kurt ran through a quick calculation in his head and estimated that the burn would last maybe fifteen minutes before the engines shut down and they coasted into orbit.
“ETA to A832 is seventeen minutes,” Janet announced.
Smiling as he admired the accuracy of his guess, Kurt watched Jack rise from his seat and make his customary, short closing statement. “OK people, good job here. Let’s plan on launching the recon. mission tomorrow morning at zero-seven-thirty.”
Numerous conversations picked up again as the room slowly emptied. Once he had a clear path, he bounded over to Nadya in the low gravity. She looked up as she shut down the last of her command programs, and said with a
smile, “Well, what do you think? Perfect as always.”
“I don’t know ... it sounded like there was an awful lot of hull stress at the end there.” His response was answered with a light slap in the back of the head. She playfully pulled him closer and said, “So, it seems like we might actually have time for a normal dinner tonight.”
“Sounds good, but it won’t be anything gourmet. We’re back to tubes and pre-packaged meals now.”
“That’s fine by me. It beats your cooking anyway.” With that, she moved quickly out the door. Kurt shook his head and followed.
Chapter 7 – July 6, 2124
Jack leaned forward in the shuttle’s co-pilot seat as he reviewed a map of their primary landing site. There were no obvious alien bases or other structures – a fact that resulted in a distinct drop in moral. The morning’s surveillance photos showed a cratered plain littered with metallic beads of various sizes – likely debris from the cloud that A832’s weak gravity had managed to pull back to its surface over the past couple centuries. The only object they spotted of real interest was a large piece of polished metal embedded in a crater wall. The obvious question burned in his mind: Was it only a fragment, or could it be part of a larger, buried structure? The answer was still unknown as the asteroid’s high iron content prevented ground-penetrating radar scans from revealing anything beneath its surface.
The shuttle’s external door closed with a hiss and a thud behind him, prompting Jack to steal a quick glance over his shoulder. Devon Roberts, the Magellan’s junior pilot, was just climbing through the inner airlock hatch and sealing it. Immediately to his left was Masako Fukuhara, the ship’s geologist, who quickly took her seat behind Jack. Devon made his way over and said, “I completed the pre-flight a few minutes ago – Janet’ll be monitoring us from the Magellan, so we’re ready to go when you are.”
Jack glanced at his watch. “Five minutes early. I guess I’m not the only one anxious to get moving.”
Devon answered only with a quick grin, climbed into his seat, and said, “Computer, is the shuttle bay prepped for depressurization?”
“Yes, Lieutenant.”
Jack watched the young pilot flip through the control panel’s status screens faster than he could follow. At forty-one, Devon Roberts was the youngest member of the crew. His mannerisms still showed signs of the brash, young, thirty-one-year-old that started the mission. His skills were among the best in the fleet, and having reached the rank of full Lieutenant at only twenty-eight, his career was assured. When Jack interviewed him for the mission, there was only one real question that he wanted answered: why give up a career that would surely make him an admiral by forty? The answer he got was short, but satisfying. Devon had given a dismissive flick to the gold bars on his collar and said, “Where’s this really going to take me? In ten or twenty years I’ll be stuck behind a desk planning missions that I’d rather be on. What’s that compared to being the first people to go to another star system?”
Devon’s appearance matched his youth. At an even two meters in height, his stature could only be described as athletic. His short-cropped brown hair showed no trace of gray, and his sharp facial features spoke of his English ancestry.
Devon checked the status indicators once more before quickly calling into the radio, “Janet, we’re prepped for launch.”
“You’re go for launch,” was the quick reply.
Devon gave Jack a quick glance, which was answered with a nod, and then calmly said, “Computer, depressurize the bay.” There was the familiar rush of the air being pumped out of the chamber. A barely perceptible moment of silence passed before Devon spoke again. “Computer, open the outer doors.”
A yellow warning light on the bay ceiling flashed, and two large, reinforced steel doors quietly slid aside. Beyond them lay nothing but pitch-blackness. Jack watched with approval as Devon took hold of the control stick and gently pushed forward, guiding them through the opening. They were immediately surrounded by darkness; their only light coming from the dim amber glow of the shuttle’s controls. His eyes adjusted and a narrow band of stars framed by the black silhouettes of the Magellan’s fuel tanks revealed themselves. They accelerated away from ship and soon the jeweled band of the Milky Way stretched out before him. Jack only had a moment to admire it before the shuttle banked right and a large, jet-black disk slid into view. Their approach from A832’s night side hid any hint of the planetoid’s nature; the globe simply grew, eventually filling his field of view. They dove toward the darkened surface, but saw nothing of it. There was no frame of reference – no way to judge how fast they were crossing the small world’s surface. His only sense of motion came from stars rising in front of him.
Then, in the distance, the bright, thin crescent of A832’s daylight side showed itself. Straining his eyes, Jack could just make out a jagged line of rough terrain on the horizon. The illuminated region grew slowly, tantalizing him with a barely discernable view of a gray, airless landscape. They descended further, and the swath of illuminated terrain broadened. Finally, his thirst for detail was quenched. A rugged collection of ashen craters lay ahead. Their far walls cast long, jagged shadows that stretched toward him, while their nearest edges climbed out of the darkness forming jeweled arcs. Barely perceptible streaks of beige gave the scene a hint of color. The terminator – the sharp line separating night from day – rushed toward them, and a second later they crossed into brilliant daylight. The asteroid’s surface was painful to look at, forcing Jack to squint. As his eyes relaxed, he could see an endless, chaotic array of craters stretching toward the horizon; there were too many to count. Newer craters overlapped ancient impacts that likely dated back to the formation of the planetoid itself. The basins of each were filled with the rings of progressively smaller and smaller craters until his eye could only distinguish the features as dots. They continued on course, and the landscape changed. The cratered plain gave way to rows of rolling hills broken by sharp vertical cliffs. Soon they were passing over the rugged peaks of a small mountain chain, where Jack could see muted shades of yellow and brown mix into the lifeless soil below. He pulled himself away from the hypnotic scene, and forced his mind back on task. “What’s our altitude?”
“Twenty kilometers. We’re nearly at the site. ETA in two minutes,” Devon answered.
The mountains were behind them now, and they were again gliding over cratered flatlands. The features grew, rushing by more quickly as they continued their descent. A silver glint embedded in a distant crater wall caught Jack’s eye. It sparkled like a small diamond, in stark contrast to its dusty surroundings. They came up on it fast, and within a matter of seconds he was pulled forward by the pressure of deceleration. A moment later the pressure ceased and they were hovering no more than fifty meters away from the object. A mirror-like, metal fragment, maybe two meters across, was fully embedded in the base of a thirty-meter-high, ashen crater wall. His eyes were fixated on the rough-edged, square patch of silver, until a splash of color in the surrounding regolith caught his attention. Before his thoughts were fully formed though, Masako’s voice broke the silence. “Do you see it? It’s red, I mean really red!”
“I see it,” he answered as he studied the ruddy patch of soil. “It doesn’t belong here.” Turning to Devon, he asked, “How close can you get us without kicking up any dust?”
Without answering, the pilot edged them closer before stopping about twenty meters away. Jack could see more clearly what at first he thought might have been an illusion. Near the base of the polished metal object lay several small pools of a deep maroon substance. They were perfectly smooth with rounded edges, and sat on top of the surrounding soil. Shimmering in the sunlight with crimson highlights, they seemed almost translucent. “It looks almost as if it flowed out from the edge of the metal,” Jack said.
“I’d have to agree,” Masako answered. “I’d love to get a sample.”
“Devon, take us in,” Jack said softly, “just try not to kick up too much dust aroun
d that stuff.”
Jack leaned forward as the ground slowly rose up toward them. A light fog of dust surrounded the shuttle, but that was unavoidable in the one fiftieth of a g that passed for gravity on A832. The altimeter read twenty meters, then ten.
They jumped back in their seats as dozens of small objects suddenly peppered the windshield. “Shit, pull up...pull up!” Jack ordered. The shuttle started rising as sanguine streaks slid down the glass. Before he could formulate any thoughts, there were more impacts across the side window. A fog completely engulfed them and turned distinctly red. “Engines off!” Jack barked.
Devon instantly obeyed, and the hum of the shuttle’s engines ceased. They drifted slowly in silence as the asteroid’s weak gravity struggled to pull them down. Nearly half a minute passed before they finally fell back to the surface, landing with only a slight bump.
“What the hell was that?” Masako called out.
Ignoring her, Jack simply said, “Devon, status.”
Without turning to him, his pilot answered, “We took several light impacts across our bow, but no damage.”
Prelude to Extinction Page 6
