There was a high-powered microwave source on board the spaceship. What if they concentrated its rays on the spring? The others would think he’d gone completely mad.
“Daniel?”
“Yes, we’re here, what is it?”
“Someone sentenced to death can’t be denied a last request, can he?”
Daniel laughed. “Good to hear you haven’t lost your sense of humor. What can we do for you?”
“I want you to fire microwaves at the comet nucleus.”
“Umm, how’s that supposed to work?”
“There’s a powerful microwave oven on board the ship in the gastronomy sector.”
“Gastronomy sounds like astronomy.”
“Good one. Yeah, that’s what made me think of it.”
He didn’t have time to explain his thought processes to the others. His companions would simply have to humor him. So, maybe it wasn’t a bad thing if they thought he’d lost his mind.
“Well, if that’s your last wish and if it makes you happy—”
“I’d like to spend my last few minutes being illuminated by the light from my favorite burger chain.”
“Understood. We don’t need to tell Earth about this.”
“No. And there isn’t any time. Please hurry.”
“What exactly do you want us to do?”
“Put the microwave into the large airlock. Maybe you could position the high-gain antenna behind the transmitter to focus it.”
“Could it be that you have a plan?” asked Daniel. “No one comes up with an idea like this just for shits and grins when they’re staring death in the face.”
“Ah, you’ve seen through me. Look, I don’t have time to explain it, so please just do it for me without asking why. It’s probably a stupid idea. I mean, who ever heard of firing microwaves at a dark matter spring?”
“Can I ask you one thing? Then I promise we’ll get to work.”
“Sure.”
“What are you hoping to achieve?”
“If we’re lucky, the dark matter spring will close up.”
“And how will we know if it has?”
“That’s two questions.”
“Sorry. We’re on our way. Microwave oven out, antenna out, into the cargo bay, reconnect. If there’s power in the cargo bay, it’ll take less than ten minutes. We’ll let you know as soon as it’s ready.”
Ten minutes. He’d just turned 60, and now his whole world was reduced to 10 times 60 seconds. Then he’d know if his crazy plan would succeed. No. Daniel’s question was justified. How would they know if the spring had actually closed? Only then could he try to leave this inhospitable place, because he’d no longer be needed here.
The radio connection to the Earth—wouldn’t that suddenly be active again? No, that was illogical. Just because the spring had closed didn’t mean the dark matter that was already there wouldn’t still have an effect. No one would be able to tell from the outside that anything had changed. He had to go to the crater. The red glow should change if the spring stopped emitting.
But if he stayed by the crater, he couldn’t press the button, which he had to do if his plan didn’t work. And he had to assume it wouldn’t. Getting to the crater and back—he’d never manage that in under an hour. Dammit!
It was no use. Even if he was successful, it wouldn’t save his life. They had to be sure. He couldn’t leave his post before the danger to Earth had been neutralized.
Brandon pictured the crater. He’d be able to explore it for a couple more weeks. Maybe he could investigate the dark matter more closely. There would be time before his resources ran out. The scientists on Earth would be happy to have someone on site. Then at least his time here wouldn’t be in vain. That was comforting.
Wait a minute. He wasn’t the only representative of Earth up here. The Philae lander that the ESA had sent into space years previously was an incorruptible witness. What could Philae tell him about the spring?
Suddenly Brandon had no time to waste. He got into the capsule and established a connection with Philae. The lander allowed him read-only access to the instruments—he couldn’t manipulate them. Philae was plainly a well-engineered piece of tech. So many values! APXS, CIVA, ROLIS, CONSERT, MUPUS, ROMAP, and so on—none of it meant anything to him.
But wasn’t that irrelevant? The Philae had alerted the Germans to the presence of dark matter, so the lander must be capable of providing him with the necessary read-outs. He just needed to look at the curves. There were currently no outliers. If the experiment worked, some of them should change. It didn’t matter exactly what that signified. The message would be clear—the experiment would have had an effect, and that was all he needed to know.
Then no one would need him to stay here to press a button.
“Brandon? We’re ready. The comet nucleus has rotated so that we can aim directly at the crater where you believe the spring to be.”
“Good. I’m observing Philae’s sensors, and I’d like to transmit the data to you so you can pass it on to Earth.”
“The data will tell us whether we’re successful?”
“Exactly, Daniel, but...”
He had to tell them. This was too much responsibility for him. What if he was wrong? What if there was some change that had nothing to do with the spring? He was usually always right, but the existence of humanity was at stake—an expert from Earth should be the one to judge in the end.
“...you need to send all the data to Earth and wait for confirmation.”
“If you say so. That will take a few hours. We have to wait until the Lunar Gateway is ready to receive. It’ll be too late for you by the time we have an answer.”
“I know. But I can’t leave my post until we’re certain.”
“That’s very noble of you. Humanity will remember you for it.”
“Thank you.”
Brandon ended the connection before anyone noticed he was crying. He didn’t want to die up here. He really didn’t, but he couldn’t see any alternative.
“The time window’s about to close,” said Daniel.
“Then do it. Philae is live.”
“Dave, fire.”
It was quiet. The microwaves functioned silently in the vacuum. Their photons crossed the space between the ship and the comet at light speed. When would they see something? Nothing was happening yet—all the curves were smooth, but that was to be expected. The cup had to fill up before it could overflow. Keep calm, Brandon. Just keep looking at the curves. Apart from a few statistical outliers, they were...
There! Top left, center right, bottom right—three out of eight instruments showed significant differences at the same moment.
“Are you seeing this?”
“We see it, and we’re sending it on.”
“It worked!”
Daniel sounded strangely subdued. “So it would seem. Congratulations, Brandon. Great idea.”
“Thanks.”
“You should get out now. The button—”
“I know. In case the spring isn’t sealed, I have to start the thruster.”
He switched off the screen, closed his helmet, and went outside.
“Three, two, one, now!”
Brandon pressed the start button on the service module on Daniel’s command. It was the last thing he had to do—the thing that would ensure nothing would happen to Earth in six years.
“Best you take a step back,” said Daniel.
Nothing happened. But Dave had tested it! The thruster responded then! Why not now?
“I don’t think that’s necessary. Nothing’s happening.”
Brandon’s hand was shaking. He pressed the start button again, and again.
“Shit,” he heard David say. “I was so sure it would work.”
The microwave radiation had to have worked! They had to save the Earth! Brandon whispered a prayer. There was nothing else he could do.
“Check the onboard computer,” David said.
Brandon went back into the
capsule and activated the screen. There were now five Philae measurement curves showing deviations. He called up the thruster controls.
“Locked, it says,” he reported via helmet radio.
“Locked?”
“Locked.”
“I know what that means,” said Livia. “The thruster controls are too clever. Dave, you started the thruster before. That pressed the capsule against the comet, which can’t have done it any good. So the software locked the thruster.”
“Can I reverse it?” asked Brandon.
“You can turn the capsule. The thruster controls should detect the new position and allow another start.”
“But if we turn the capsule, we won’t be able to divert the comet,” said David.
“Yeah, we can forget that part of the plan,” said Livia. “But I have an idea. Maybe we can still get Brandon out of there.”
What? Well, that would be...
“Brandon, can you hear me? You have to turn the capsule so that the thruster accelerates it away from the comet.”
“Can I do that?”
“Yes, you can.”
“But shouldn’t I wait here to see if the experiment with the microwave radiation did anything?”
“There’s no point. We can’t get the capsule to start the thruster in a way that will divert the comet. The thruster controls are too clever. You’re not needed as a button pusher anymore. So you don’t need to wait down there.”
Maybe he wasn’t going to die here after all. But he couldn’t be happy about it. The Earth was still in danger.
“That wouldn’t have happened with an Apollo capsule,” said David.
“Well, we have newer technology. The engineers meant well,” said Daniel. “They wanted to prevent us from accidentally destroying our ship.”
“Sometimes you have to deliberately destroy things to do what needs to be done.”
“Yeah, that’s the motto of your generation, Dave. Today, safety comes first.”
“And what good has that done us? One less option to save the Earth. Now everything depends on whether Brandon’s crazy idea worked.”
“Then I’ll go out and turn the capsule,” he said.
He was superman, no less. In front of him was a spaceship weighing several tons, and he’d moved it into a horizontal position by himself.
He routed his camera feed so the spaceship could receive it. “Well, how does it look?”
“Perfect,” said Daniel. “Let’s not waste any more time.”
Brandon was buckled into the commander’s seat, Dave’s spot. “I have no idea how to program a course,” he said.
“You don’t need a new course, just use the old one,” said Daniel. “The spaceship’s also heading toward the original rendezvous point.”
“How do I do that?”
“I’ll explain it to you.”
They worked through the menus together.
“Now you just need to press ‘execute.’”
“And I’ll lift off?”
“You’ll lift off.”
“Back to Earth?”
“No, the capsule wouldn’t make it. Back to us. We’ll pick you up, then head back to the moon.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
He pressed the button. Nothing happened. Then ‘locked’ appeared onscreen.
“Shit. First the damn thruster controls stop us from clearing 67P out of the way, and now they won’t let me out of here.”
“Wait. I need to see it for myself,” said Daniel.
Brandon granted Daniel remote access to the thruster controls.
“I thought it must be something like that,” said Daniel after a couple of minutes. “The thruster controls are detecting obstacles all over the place. That must be the dark matter. No one could have predicted that.”
“And that’s probably what was causing our problem earlier,” said David.
“Definitely,” said Daniel.
“So how do I get out of here?”
“We have to remove the dark matter.”
“Impossible.”
“Then we’ll have to wait for it to dissipate on its own. If there’s no more of it emerging, shouldn’t it reduce over time?”
“That could take months, Dan.”
“I have an idea,” said Livia. “It’s a little crazy, but—”
“In the worst case, it fails,” said Brandon.
“Well...”
Brandon closed the tap he’d used to fill the oxygen tank. He checked all the battery levels, closed his helmet and floated to the airlock, opened the inner door, stepped into the airlock, and clipped on his safety line. Daniel had told him how to open the inner and outer doors simultaneously, which the automatic security system usually prevented.
But it only worked from the outside. So he closed the inner door and pumped out the air. Then he could open the outer door. Step one complete. Now he held his breath, took the hose from his helmet, and held it over the pressure sensor. That fooled the system into thinking the airlock was under pressure, and he could open the inner door.
Whoooom! The pressure equalization slammed him against the back wall of the airlock. The air from the entire cabin rushed out as though the capsule had sneezed, and the blowback lifted it off the comet. He had to be patient. The open airlock functioned like a jet. He only had to hold his breath for another 30 seconds, and then the momentum should be enough to leave the area where the dark matter was too high.
His heart was beating fast. He was probably blue in the face. He frantically pulled the pressure hose off the sensor. The system should now detect that both doors were open and close one of them. But it didn’t. Shit. Who was the programmer who’d been so lazy and ignored something that actually couldn’t occur? He fumbled with the hose. Getting it off hadn’t been this hard. Stay calm, Brandon. You’re so close.
Click. The hose was back in place. Brandon drew fresh oxygen into his lungs. Suffocating was horrible. He pulled himself forward to the controls. He glanced around briefly. The open airlock door looked like a ghost trying to grasp at him. Suddenly something tugged at his shoulder. His heart skipped a beat. The safety line! He’d forgotten to unclip it. He couldn’t reach the computer like that. The capsule wasn’t accelerating anymore, because all the air had been flushed out. So he could safely go to the airlock and unclip his line. Then back. He buckled himself into David’s seat. The course was still programmed in. He turned his head to the side and could now see stars behind the porthole.
“Execute.”
Brandon clicked on the green button.
“Okay,” announced the thruster controls. “Arriving in 27 minutes.”
He leaned back. He didn’t care that there was no air in the cabin, since he’d be transferring to the spaceship in half an hour. He’d done it.
Hopefully the Earth was out of danger, too.
September 2, 2026 – SpaceShip SS1
“I have good news,” said Yunus.
“Out with it, then,” said Daniel.
“Mission Control says the data from Philae confirms that the dark spring has dried up.”
“Oh, that’s incredible! We have to celebrate!”
“I’m supposed to congratulate you all. Saviors of humanity and all that. You’re being worshipped in the media, and the president is proud of you.”
“Oh. That means we’ll probably have to travel all over the country after we land.”
“Well, that’s how it goes for civil servants. I’ll retreat to my studio and not hear any news for months.”
“You’re lucky. I envy you.”
“Sorry,” Yunus said. “I have to go. KK’s calling from the moon. I’m guessing he won’t let us put him off much longer.”
“Did you hear that?” Daniel asked.
“Let’s celebrate!” said David.
Dave and Dan. The two of them reminded Brandon of a father and son. His father had died years ago. A space voyage together—the old man would have liked that.
/> “Is there any alcohol around her?” asked David.
Brandon shook his head. “I think Chatterjee prohibited it. But we can fry some burgers to celebrate. There must still be a huge selection of patties, vegan even.”
“Sorry, Brandon, but we left the microwave in the cargo bay. No burgers, unless you feel like getting into a spacesuit and bringing it back up here?”
Back in that stinking suit? Not for a couple of meat sandwiches.
“No thanks, Dave.”
“Then we’ll postpone the party till we’re on the Gateway. I’ve stashed a good bottle of scotch there.”
It was surreal. All he’d wanted was to see the moon up close from his comfortable seat as a passenger on the first tourist space flight outside of Earth orbit.
Brandon stretched his legs. He was starting to miss gravity. He was never really in contact with the things around him. If he tightened his belt, after a while it just gave him a gut ache. He longed to lie on a proper mattress again, sinking gently into it so that only an earthquake could shift him from his position.
It would be even better if Jenna were sitting on him. The corners of his mouth turned up involuntarily. Humans really hadn’t evolved much beyond animals.
His screen turned itself on. Had they already left the zone in which the dark matter was blocking their signal? It was Jenna. She’d read his thoughts.
“I was just thinking about you,” he said.
“I’ve finally got through to you! You can’t imagine how worried I was.”
“So was I.”
“I’ll bet! I’ve read the official report. You’re a hero! You were all alone on the comet!”
“Strangely, I didn’t feel alone. Philae was there, too.”
“And? Did you have a good chat?”
The Dark Spring: Hard Science Fiction Page 25
