Dead Reckoning and Other Stories

by David M. Kelly

  The fact that something was in that orbit nearly caused a minor world war. The United Northern States and Provinces accused the Muslim-Catholic Alliance. MusCat blamed the Pan-Asian Confederation. The PAC claimed IT as theirs, but stated that they'd launched it only in retaliation against Old Europe who had criticized their human rights record (not to mention industrial profligacy). Old Europe, as usual, blamed everyone else merely for existing. And so it went around.

  I suppose I should introduce myself. I'm Antoine Solomon Murphy, a space engineer with a specialism in self-organizing orbital construction—SpaceHabs. I've been known universally as just "Murphy" (or sometimes "Murph" with close friends) since about the age of seven. Unfortunately that also carries its own burden—"Murphy's Law."

  If it can go wrong, it will. How many times have I heard that? How many times were random events summarily tagged as my fault? Later I decided to replace this with a new rule: "Adequate preparation and intelligence can cope with any situation."

  I work for the Independent Space Habitat Research Agency, ISHRA. (You've probably seen the "Build. Life." ad series.) As we're the closest thing to an orbital troubleshooting team, we were the ones called in to figure IT out.

  ***

  IT's orbit was perfect. That ruled out the MusCat Alliance immediately—those yoyos couldn't plan a trajectory if their lives (or Yahweh's) depended on it. Too perfect; even the Pan-Asians and Old Europe would struggle to launch something that precisely.

  It had to be alien and that was worrying in several ways. First, was IT benign? (I'm talking about political-nonthink now—let's face it, have you ever met a politician who understood logic?) Was IT crewed? If so, could we (and should we) try to help? If we tried would they understand? And the biggie: how could we establish contact?

  I was given twelve hours to put together my team. We'd be the lucky ones who'd get a close look at IT. I took the whole twelve hours. Not to choose my team—I knew that in less than a minute—but I wanted time to think about the approach. I've also found that the "higher-ups" get nervous when you give them an answer "too quickly."

  I gave my boss the list and a request for a launch window for Mickey Mouse, ISHRA's space hopper—so called because of the twin Doppler radar/LASER range finders on each side of the vessel that look like large ears.

  "Good team, Murphy." Pasierowski barely scanned the names.

  To say I was surprised would be an understatement. I'd been ready for at least an hour of wrangling over each one. The fact they'd all find it incredibly cool wasn't much of a bargaining point—ISHRA doesn't have the most progressive management style.

  "The MKY011 Hopper is not an option though."

  No-one outside senior management uses Mickey Mouse's official designation—the second reason for its peppy nickname. Without the Hopper we'd be limited to remote investigation, which would provide a fraction of the information we'd get from a crewed mission. "Listen, Boss." I smiled at Pasierowski's slight grimace; he hates being called that. "We aren't going to figure this thing out sitting a couple of thousand kilometers away."

  "The Hopper isn't big enough."

  "Huh?" I figured he'd finally gone nuts, then I realized he was still avoiding eye contact and the OmniBuck dropped. "Who is it?"

  Pasierowski traced random patterns on his desk. "You'll be joined by Lieutenant Devuyst."

  "The military? What's their interest in this?"

  "You're not that naive, Murphy. This comes from the First Minister herself. The military are providing the vehicle and the pilot."

  "What about our remote sensors?"

  "They have everything for close proximity operations."

  My responses were limited and I used the shortest one for efficiency. Cat—Caitlin—was always our main pilot and would not be happy. If it can go wrong... I cursed inwardly for even starting the thought. I should have anticipated military interest and prepared for it.

  "You'll be picked up at zero six hundred hours." Pasierowski shrugged. "It's still the chance of a lifetime."

  ***

  The trip to the High-Rig was the usual combination of tedium mixed with equal parts nausea and excitement. Climbing up a tether to orbit isn't the quickest way of getting there, but it's attractively cheap to management. This time there was also resentment when I mentioned the military. Even Chun, the least outspoken person I've ever met, had only bad things to say. "Soldiers attach guns to everything. Aliens not very happy."

  When we reached the military hopper his judgment was confirmed. The front of the snub craft was littered by several large guns and heavy beam projectors, plus several other nasty looking devices whose purpose I could only guess at. Devuyst was waiting, standing at ease with her hands behind her back.

  "We're prepped for immediate launch. If you'll take your positions we can get going." Devuyst spoke with the kind of clipped tones that came from dealing with subordinates who responded without question.

  "Don't we need orientation first?" Cat's voice was low and thick. "You know, basics like safety, command transfer procedures..."

  Devuyst shook her head. "Negative, Ms. Storey. This operation is strictly military and we operate on a need-to-know basis."

  Cat tipped her head to one side. "Then you don't need us and we shouldn't even be here. Murphy? What is this? Since when are basic safety and operating protocols a 'secret'?"

  Cat was right; no one went on a ship—even just a Hopper—without familiarizing themselves with the capabilities and orienting a secondary pilot. In fact the law required it. "Lieutenant..." I examined the space between my feet for several seconds. "According to Scharpman-Raynes we can't even enter that ship without either Operator's Certification or conducting a full orientation session. I'm sure you understand the importance of due diligence in safety matters."

  "The Scharpman-Raynes Act doesn't apply, Dr. Murphy. This is a military operation, not covered by civil restrictions." Her voice was controlled, but her teeth were clenched. Evidently this scenario hadn't been considered.

  "That's true, but we're civilians. I'd be much happier if we had someone to back you up. Just in case."

  "Murph!" Cat started to speak, but much to my relief didn't continue.

  "That's not part of my orders." Devuyst's jaw seemed to jut out.

  "A lot of people went to great lengths to bring us together, Lieutenant. I wouldn't want to tell them we failed at the first hurdle, would you?" I waited and eventually she shook her head almost imperceptibly. "I understand you weren't ordered to brief a co-pilot, but were you ordered not to?"

  I hoped Devuyst wasn't locked into the narrow constraints of the typical military mindset. I really didn't want to have to step in between her and Cat.

  "I received no orders on the matter."

  "In that case, I'd appreciate it if you'd explain the controls to Ms. Storey." I smiled my most friendly smile. "Naturally you don't need to include details of weapons or other sensitive systems."

  "I wouldn't."

  Devuyst spun on her heel, grabbed the handholds and slithered through the 'Lock feet first. I heard someone blow a raspberry behind me but didn't bother to check who. I just hoped Devuyst hadn't caught it.

  The Hopper was larger than Mickey Mouse and I wondered just how maneuverable it would be in orbit, especially if we had to carry out close proximity operations. Inside the flat black hull—another difference, most orbital craft are white and highly reflective to ward off radiation—it was even more cramped than inside Mickey Mouse. Passengers with swinging cats need not apply.

  I twisted into the seat next to Devuyst, leaving enough DNA samples along the way to convict me in a murder case. "You military types must enjoy each other's company." I tried another smile but it splintered against the Lieutenant's cold glare as she continued her pre-flight checks.

  "It's armored, Murph." Cat thumped the hull as she slid into the co-pilot's seat behind Devuyst, managing to somehow still look elegant as she did. The hull didn't ring like normal; instead there w
as a dull "thunk". "Dumb military think we're going to be fighting off space aliens."

  I saw Devuyst's shoulders tighten but her voice was as emotionless as ever. "Would you rather be defenseless and unprotected?"

  Chun spoke for the first time since meeting Devuyst, his slick raven hair reflecting reds and purples from the operating lights. "Your reasoning is weak. IT must have traveled dozens of light-years at the least. Whoever sent it control energies far beyond anything we're capable of. PlaSteel armor and guns will prove only that we're belligerent, unintelligent, and a very minor threat."

  Devuyst pinned me in my seat with a withering glance. "You didn't tell them we're not the only ones interested in IT?"

  "Murphy? What happened?" Cat sounded hurt.

  I sighed. "Eighteen hours ago Pan-Asia directed one of their MilSats to intercept IT and establish 'communications'."

  "Communications?" Chun's interest peaked now we were talking about his specialty. "What kind? Digital? Analogue? Radio? Light?"

  Chun is a communications savant. He can build a high fidelity communication system using anything from a laser to a length of dog intestine and some paper cups. He's also a linguistics expert fluent in fifteen languages and studies dead languages for fun. In-between he bolsters his tan while surfing and listening to mid-twentieth rock and roll. Chun says the music helps him think better. A scary thought, as he's already in the top one percent.

  "The signals showed the deployment of a point five megawatt coherent optical broadcast." I knew they weren't going to buy that, but my hands were somewhat tied.

  I wasn't surprised when Chun got there first. "They tried to shoot it down?"

  "Officially they tried to establish 'contact' and there was a malfunction."

  "Malfunction my a-"

  "Cat. They tried and failed. That's all we need to know."

  "What about the MilSat?" Chun asked the big question.

  I shrugged. "Lieutenant?"

  Devuyst didn't turn from the controls. "The MilSat was lost."

  "IT destroyed the Sat? Are you serious?" said Cat.

  "The MilSat deployed and twenty milliseconds later stopped. No signals were subsequently detected. The Pan-Asians withdrew and our remote scans show IT and nothing else."

  "Have the Pan-Asians said anything?"

  "Communications malfunction."

  Silence descended on the cramped flight deck like heat before a thunder-storm. Everyone had their own thoughts, but no one was sharing.

  Devuyst grinned for the first time. "Retracting umbilicals. Disengaging docking clamps. Firing thrusters two, four and six. Five second burst at eighty percent capacity. On my Mark. We'll clear the station and I'll familiarize Ms. Storey with the controls. Unless anyone wants to leave now?" She paused briefly. "Much as I enjoy your chatter, I find I prefer the quiet. And Mark!"

  ***

  It didn't take long to familiarize Cat with the military hopper. She'd raced rocket planes in university and could easily have picked up a big juicy pro contract when she finished her studies. Luckily for us she decided to pursue her academic interests instead. Thirty minutes later Devuyst reluctantly admitted that Cat could pilot the ship competently.

  Devuyst took us high out of Earth's orbit in a long and dreary maneuver that I was pleased to say I mostly slept through. Then she dropped planet-ward once again in a trajectory that seemed odd to me, but one Cat interpreted immediately.

  "You want to come at IT out of the Sun? Murph—she's trying to sneak up on it like we're playing tag."

  "I'm sure IT will know we're here whichever way you go, Lieutenant," I said.

  "That isn't the only reason." Devuyst growled. "We'll have the best view on approach."

  Cat gave a snort. "Sure, that's the reason."

  "It also aligns us for a coded-neutrino burst."

  "Coded neutrinos? From where?" I was starting to share Cat's unease. "Are we going to make the same mistake the Pan-Asians did?"

  "The source is classified. We believe the level is low enough not to be threatening." Devuyst kept her hands on the controls.

  "But you don't know for sure." Cat said.

  "It's a calculated risk." She glanced back. "Either way, we're approaching alignment and will know in twenty-five seconds."

  "We're the ones taking the risk though." Cat shook her head. "What happens if that thing decides to make us disappear too?"

  "Target in visual range." Devuyst maximized the optical feed and a long, roughly cylindrical-looking blob appeared.

  "Enhancing."

  The image rippled as the computer ran optimizing algorithms, making a guess as to IT's appearance. After a few minutes the image steadied into something resembling a cross between a skyscraper and a trash can.

  "That's IT?" Chun asked. "Are you serious?"

  "A garbage can in space?" The corners of my mouth twitched.

  Chun laughed and a second later we were all at it. Except Devuyst.

  "The optimization program is finding it hard to lock down the appearance. What you're seeing is an approximation."

  "I could do better. This is stupid." Cat tried to hold back her giggles but failed. "Maybe IT's really a giant mop and broom?"

  "Switching to raw visuals." Devuyst's fingers flicked over the keys and the image changed back to the blurry shape. "Holding at ten thousand meters. Deploying neutrino detectors."

  Several faint metallic vibrations resonated through the small cabin and I assumed that some of the anonymous devices we'd seen on the front of the craft had detached. Now I was starting to get uptight. Neutrino detectors are huge; most are several kilometers across and buried underground. "How are you going to catch these neutrinos? With a baseball mitt?"

  "The neutrinos themselves are spin-encoded by the emitter. By aligning the emitter and detector appropriately we can get a shadow scan of the inside of the target. I'll feed the images onto your screens."

  My screen lit up with a murky gray image of swirling white noise, like a video taken inside a sandstorm with a monochrome camera. At the bottom a frame counter ticked off the milliseconds. A sliver of black appeared, growing and stretching. It might have been a systems diagnostic or the calling card of the long lost Mars Colony for all I knew. Then it shrank back down to nothing and vanished.

  Cat guffawed. "You got nothing! All that drama and mystery and you didn't get a single sliver of information."

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "Do a 3D projection on the scans." Cat said.

  Devuyst manipulated the controls with tight fingers. The image snapped up on my screen in three dimensions: a perfect black rendering with the same outline as IT.

  "The neutrinos didn't penetrate?" I said.

  "I thought... that is... I mean that's not supposed to be possible is it?" Devuyst frowned.

  "At our level of technology it's not. If you had enough energy you might be able to generate a field strong enough to deflect them."

  "We'd detect a field that strong." Devuyst sounded confident and I wondered why. No doubt she wouldn't be "at liberty" to share the knowledge.

  "We don't know how that might work. How would we know what to detect, or even recognize it if we did?" Cat said.

  Cat was right, but we still had a job to do. "We'll have to do this the old fashioned way. Can you take us closer, Lieutenant?"

  Devuyst's knuckles whitened as she gripped the edge of the console. "That's my call, Dr. Murphy. This is still a military mission. This is a minor setback. You know what they say, if it can go wr-"

  I held up my hand. "Please. I'd rather you didn't."

  "What? Oh yes, I see."

  I smiled appreciatively. At least I hoped she realized it was a smile and not me just baring my teeth at her. "If you have a better suggestion, please go ahead."

  I saw Devuyst's larynx moving and realized she was sub-vocalizing. No doubt querying the military "brains" via a communications implant. Several minutes passed before she spoke.

  "We're going in. But
we back off at the first sign of trouble. And I define trouble, no one else."

  "Can I make a suggestion?" Cat said.

  Devuyst didn't look up from the controls.

  "We have remote probes. We could send them ahead to get a better idea of what IT is. I can fly one and Murphy here might remember the basics."

  "Thanks Cat. Your confidence is underwhelming." I thought about making a rude gesture, but decided against it.

  "That makes sense." Devuyst said. "I'll transfer control to your stations."

  The Hopper vibrated as the probes launched and data immediately appeared on my screen.

  Cat gave me a big thumbs up. "Telemetry reading Five-By,"

  "Okay. I'll try the rear and see what kind of propulsion this thing has. Assuming it has a propulsion system and it's at the rear." I worked the controls steadily.

  "You also assume it has a rear." Chun laughed.

  "I'll take a sweep length-wise and take a look at the 'front'." Cat worked the controls. "The probe has a lot of juice."

  It was true, as I found out when I laid in my own instructions—easily twice as fast as the probes on Mickey Mouse. The military is never starved of expensive equipment. Not that I would want to swap with them. All the equipment going can't compensate for having to figuratively check in your brain when you sign up.

  IT's image grew steadily as the probe boosted forwards, rapidly leaving us behind. The display danced occasionally as the sensors rescaled, keeping IT squarely in frame. Dragging my fingers over the control surface I zoomed the image onto the area we assumed to be the rear. The cylindrical shape increased in radius at this point, split by a number of channels running back from a ring of mountainous blocks girdling the waist.

  The surface was like nothing I'd seen. It didn't look metallic despite what the earlier reports said; it also didn't look like one of the lattice structures we were trying to grow as space habitats. I'd secretly hoped (irrationally) that IT would validate our approach and help end the ever-present funding squeeze. IT's surface seemed more knitted or woven, but even as I watched I realized its appearance was shifting constantly.