The Dark Spring: Hard Science Fiction

by Brandon Q Morris

  “Yes, it told me about its long journey. Just imagine, it’s been traveling through the solar system for twelve years.”

  “That sounds great. It must have seen a lot!”

  “Yes, except that the region it was traveling through was a little austere. Just dust, ice, and darkness.”

  “Well, that would affect your mood, that’s for sure. But I called just because I wanted to hear your voice again. My employer’s paying for the expensive communication time, and I need you to agree to have your first interview on Earth with the best female journalist in the United States.”

  “Only if it includes dinner.”

  “I think that can be arranged.”

  “And you’re not jealous?”

  “Of course not. What are you talking about? It’s a purely professional meeting.”

  “Of course it is, Jenna.”

  September 5, 2026 – Lunar Gateway

  “Well, people, it was great to be here,” said Yunus.

  “You’re a bad liar,” said David. “Last night was cramped, and you’re glad to be getting back to your comfortable ship.”

  Yunus laughed. Of course he was happy about that, just like Vyacheslav, Kenichi, Emily, and Sophie. Eight of them sleeping in the Gateway had been no fun. Brandon had been smart enough to stay in the spaceship. The writer didn’t seem enthusiastic about large groups of people, which was in line with David’s stereotype of authors. But Brandon had his eternal respect for being willing to sacrifice himself for the Earth.

  The five visitors and the NASA crew hugged. It was finally time. Two at a time bid farewell and got into the airlock.

  Kenichi Kikuchi was last. “Great work down there on the comet,” he said. “If you ever need any kind of help, you can call in a favor from me, David. And of course you, too, Livia and Daniel.” He nodded to the three of them.

  “Say that to the writer, too. The microwave was his idea.”

  “I will, David. I’m glad I closed that deal with the burger chain. It just goes to show how a simple marketing idea can save the whole world.”

  Oh, man. Soon there’d probably be a McSaveTheWorld burger. David didn’t mind having to wait a while before returning to Earth. The next Orion capsule wouldn’t be launch-ready for three weeks. Their ship was on its way to Jupiter with 67P. It would probably return in six years together with the comet.

  “Safe travels, Kenichi,” he said.

  September 12, 2026 – Surface of the moon

  “Yee-ha!” David yelled loudly into his helmet microphone. He took off, bounded with large strides over several rocks, leapt up, and did a somersault in the air. Then he landed again, legs apart.

  “Not bad!” Livia said.

  “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

  “The new suits are amazing,” said Daniel. “The freedom of movement!”

  “You sound like an underwear commercial,” said David.

  “Maybe our young buck will become an underwear model,” said Livia.

  “Young buck, haha. You’re barely over thirty yourself.”

  David made a short sprint. It was wonderful to feel the physical resistance. They had to exercise a lot in zero gravity, too. But down here, at least you got somewhere when you moved!

  “I don’t want to spoil your fun,” said Livia, “but we should think about our work and collect the rocks Mission Control wanted.”

  “Yes, Mom, we’ll get to work soon,” said Daniel.

  David bent down and inspected the ground. They needed a particular type of rock. It was a pity they hadn’t had more time on the comet. Moonrock was already available on Earth by the ton. Comet material wasn’t. “Do you two realize we’ve set a record that no one’s going to break any time soon?”

  “We haven’t been away that long,” said Daniel.

  “No. But we’re the first astronauts to have set foot on three different celestial bodies.”

  “When the first Mars mission launches in ten years, we’ll have some competition,” said Livia.

  “Then we’ll apply for that mission, too,” said Daniel. “That’ll make it four. And since we’ve just saved the world, it’ll be hard for them to say no to us.”

  “You two go for it,” said David. “I’m retiring. A somersault on the moon—that was the pinnacle of my career.”

  September 19, 2026 – DLR Control Room, Cologne

  Karl hesitated. If he clicked on ‘upload,’ his work on Philae would be finished. He’d grown fond of the little lander. But Comet 67P was getting more distant each day. The direct connection with Philae would soon be lost.

  He checked the simulation one last time. He’d already checked it three times, and there seemed to be no problems. But he was still uncertain. If he’d built in a mistake, no one would be able to correct it six years from now. Until then, the lander would collect data as it streaked through the universe on board the comet. He wished he could fly with it, just for the view. The prognosis was that the still-unidentified radiation in the crater would continue to supply the lander with energy, so that it had eyes and ears on its long voyage.

  Karl pulled himself together and pressed the button. He’d see Philae again in six years. And if all went well, the lander would bring back a treasure trove of observations and measurements. He’d evaluate them, and Sylvia would then author a fantastic paper that would make her even more famous in the world of astrophysics. He was okay with that.

  It would also mean she had to continually travel around the world, and even when she was at home, she would have journalists knocking on her door. Thanks, Sylvia, for keeping me out of it all. Yesterday her husband had come to see him, his old friend Johannes, and complained that Sylvia was never home. Karl didn’t have any answers for him.

  Philae’s reply appeared on the screen. “Confirmed. Update complete.”

  October 5, 2026 – Hawthorne, California

  “Angie? Please send Adam Smith to my office.”

  “He’s already been waiting out here for an hour, Ihab.”

  “Oh, I completely forgot. He can come in.”

  The door opened. Smith shivered and wrapped his jacket tightly around himself. Ihab Chatterjee liked it very cold in his office.

  “Hello, boss,” Adam said.

  “Sorry, Neguun.” Smith liked being called by his nickname. “I had quite a long conversation with a couple of investors. They don’t understand my plans.”

  “Sorry, boss. I just wanted—”

  “That doesn’t matter now. This is about the dark matter that appeared on 67P. We need some of it.”

  “I’m afraid it’s too late.”

  “It’s never too late.”

  “Well, yes, the comet’s moving away too quickly. No spaceship would be able to catch up with it, and we don’t even have one that’s launch-ready.”

  “And the statite project?”

  “That’s optimized for an approaching object.”

  “Shit. What about the ships that were on the comet?”

  “The SS1’s still in Florida.”

  “Okay. I want you to strip off the outer layer of its hull. Maybe there’s some residual dark matter in that. Contamination.”

  “But then it won’t be ready in time for the Mars project.”

  “I don’t care. The SS3 will have to take its place. And try to buy the Orion capsule from NASA. That was sitting there longer. And from what I hear, it was even depressurized in the middle of this black soup. Whatever made it inside will have been better preserved than anything on the outer hull.”

  “And what if they don’t want to sell it, but prefer to exhibit it?”

  “You’ll just have to make them an offer they can’t refuse. And if nothing moves them, tell them Congress is thinking about cutting back their budget.”

  October 24, 2026 – Santa Monica

  Brandon stood, raised his glass of red wine, and reached forward, and they toasted across the table. Jenna looked beautiful. She was still wearing her day makeup—she’d had
an important interview that day. But she hadn’t forgotten their date at the beach-side restaurant.

  He sat down again. As he did so, the box in his pocket pressed against his thigh. There was that, too. “I have another surprise for you,” he said.

  “Oh. I’m excited.”

  Brandon reached into his pocket and took out the box, keeping his eyes on his girlfriend. Red spots formed on her cheeks, and she pushed her hands under her thighs. When had he last seen her like this?

  He opened the box below the table, which wasn’t easy with one hand. Finally he was holding the contents. He hid it in his fist and held the box in his left hand. Then he brought his right hand out from under the table. He opened it briefly in his lap, just to make sure the jeweler hadn’t packaged the wrong thing. No, everything was just as he’d ordered it. He closed his hand into a fist again and pushed it across the table toward Jenna.

  “Open it,” he said.

  “You could have just... No, doesn’t matter,” she said. She gripped his fist with both hands and uncurled his fingers. His hand opened. On his palm was a ring.

  “Is that—”

  “It’s made of 14-karat white gold. But the stone is something special. It’s a mixture of silicates and a nickel-iron alloy and more than ten organic compounds. Before I had it set, I had a piece of it spectrally analyzed.”

  Brandon watched her face. It wasn’t easy for him to read people’s feelings, but sometimes he managed it. Jenna swallowed. The red spots disappeared. Was that a good sign? Was she happy? Hard to say.

  “A piece of it?” she asked. “Then you can’t guarantee that the rest of the stone contains more than ten organic compounds. And how do you know they haven’t long since outgassed in the warm atmosphere?”

  “I... true, I should have...”

  He looked at her. There it was, the tell-tale flicker of the eyelids. She was teasing him!

  “You got me,” he said, laughing.

  “The ring’s beautiful,” she said, slipping it onto her finger and standing up to give him a kiss.

  Brandon beamed. Then he opened the box and took out a piece of paper. “Look, the results of the analysis. Now you’ll have them forever.”

  “Thank you,” said Jenna. “I’ll stick it on the bathroom mirror.”

  November 21, 2026 – Pico del Teide

  “I wish you all the best in your first real job,” said François.

  “Thank you.”

  It was his last visit to his boss’s office. He wouldn’t come back until he was the boss himself. Dieter Zetschewitz looked around him. François had family photos standing on his desk, and there were children’s drawings hanging on the wall beside it. Clearly a family man. That was why he was still hanging around here, working as an ordinary scientist in his 40’s.

  “Say hello to my old friend Manfred.”

  “Manfred Schröder?” That was the scientific director of the Leibniz Institute for Astrophysics, where he was about to start his next internship.

  “Yes, exactly, Schröder. He asked me what I thought of you.”

  Oh, well, that was a surprise. He’d been accepted for the internship, so François can’t have said bad things about him.

  “Thank you, boss.”

  “You earned it. And now get out of here. I have to work.”

  Dieter turned to leave.

  “Oh, wait, your data.”

  He turned back. “My data?”

  “You smuggled it into the observation job.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “I hope it helps you.”

  He blushed because he hadn’t requested permission. François handed him a stick, and Dieter put it in his pocket. Quick, leave, before it gets even more embarrassing.

  At the airport, he checked the data on his laptop. It was exciting. The comet was retreating toward Jupiter, as determined by the sun’s gravity. But its orbit didn’t completely match the prognosis. Either the predictions were wrong, or something was happening on 67P. He’d have to keep following it.

  December 3, 2026 – Comet 67P

  The shadows grew fainter. The farther the comet got from the sun, the lower the contrast between the lit and unlit areas. Philae noticed this because the temperature was dropping. It didn’t regret leaving behind the inhabited region of the solar system. The lander had a six-year voyage ahead of it, and, unlike last time, its energy supply seemed secure.

  There had been cause for concern a few weeks ago. The farther it flew out into space, the more the solar wind dispersed, and the fewer electrons were produced by the bremsstrahlung that provided it with energy. And then the dark matter had also dissipated and simply remained behind, the way the comet had also lost its tail.

  Those days were gone. The output of the photocells had stabilized a few days ago. Philae wouldn’t have to activate the emergency program. It could continue to research the solar system with all its senses, according to its brief. A deep sense of satisfaction ran through its hardware while, a few meters away, one hexaquark after another rose from its completely undifferentiated and homogenous condensed state into the universe, which was built on the principle of individuality.

  Author’s Afterword

  Dear readers,

  I’m pleased you’ve followed my adventures this far. Maybe you remember the time when the unexpected loss of a NASA capsule and spaceship dominated the media. My name didn’t surface much, and I was and still am very glad about that. I always saw myself as an observer and chronicler of that mission, which doubtless is among the most spectacular adventures humans have ever experienced in space. The true heroes were Dave, Daniel, and Livia. They permitted me to use their real names, and they read this book before anyone else.

  Afterward they confirmed that everything happened the way I remembered it, even though it all happened five years ago. But I wanted to be sure. Sure that Comet 67P wasn’t going to come dangerously close to the Earth on its return next year (we now know, thanks to the James Webb Space Telescope, that it won’t), but also sure that I could write everything down the way it really happened. As a fiction writer, my imagination likes to run away with me.

  Less accessible were my host on the spaceship and the man responsible for the ship’s construction. They both asked me to change their names if I didn’t want to be sued. I was happy to do them that favor, because I had nothing to criticize them for. Quite the opposite—I thank them for the most excellent adventure of my life.

  I thank you, dear readers, for allowing me to narrate this adventure. For someone like me, who likes to tell stories, there’s nothing more satisfying than finding an audience—real, sympathetic people from all over the world.

  Wait, there is something better. I was wrong—that happens to me more and more these days. The best thing that happened to me was meeting you, Jenna. I love you.

  I hope, dear readers, you’ll forgive this slight depreciation.

  Los Angeles, July 19, 2031

  Yours,

  Brandon M. Mitchell

  P.S. A request. If you liked this book, please take a look at the film it was made into. Every stream brings me some extra earnings. Thank you very much!

  P.P.S. Did you see the transmissions from ELF Mission Control over the last few weeks? The Enceladus Life Finder has finally arrived on Saturn. Are you as excited as I am about what it will find?

  Author's Note

  Dear readers,

  This is my first novel with two author's notes. The following applies even more here than it does to my other books, that is, any similarities to real persons or companies are purely coincidental and not my intention. The action and the actors are entirely from my imagination.

  The Dark Spring was inspired by an article about the d*(2380) hexaquark. Yes, it—dark matter—really exists. Whether it could actually be released by a comet is, of course, pure speculation. I’m afraid, at least in my lifetime, I won’t get an answer to that. Not that I’d like to wantonly endanger the Earth, but it’s a shame that the most excit
ing events in space always play out so far away from us. But that’s just the way it is when you’re spinning with your sun around the outer regions of the galaxy instead of closer to the violent core, defined by the black hole Sagittarius A*.

  Fortunately, there’s science fiction! A simple sentence and suddenly a comet like Churyumov-Gerasimenko is spewing out dark matter—at least in the minds of readers like you—for a few exciting hours. From that point of view, an author has tremendous power. If I was able to put that power to good use for your enjoyment, I’d like to invite you to rate this book on Amazon.

  hard-sf.com/links/1358173

  For now I’ll bid you farewell—until the next book. I’m writing in the year 2020. I’m very interested in finding out how realistic this book will seem in six years. I hope you’re still with me then.

  If you enter your name here...

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  ... you will receive a message from me as soon as the next hard science fiction title is published. (I'm of course already working on the next manuscript). In addition, I will send you the colored PDF version of The Guided Tour of Comets, which is illustrated with fascinating photos (I’m not promising you too much).

  So what can you expect in the future? We will enter into another universe. 250 years ago, mankind nearly destroyed itself. A scattered bunch of researchers and astronauts found a new home on Saturn's moon Titan shortly before - and survived by having their descendants genetically adapted to the hostile environment. The Titanians, as they call themselves, are proud of the fair society they have built for themselves, while humanity on Earth is slowly regaining its old strength. But then a 20-mile chunk of rock breaks free from the asteroid belt and sets course for Earth. To its inhabitants, it must look as if the deadly bombardment was launched from Titan. Can the Titanians, never having contact to Earth after their departure, prevent the impact and thus avoid an otherwise inevitable war with the earthlings? You can pre-order Impact: Titan here: