Esther nodded and returned her gaze to the landscape.
Carter’s indie-comm vibrated, and he checked the message coming in from Ed. The Malevolent had altered its course, en route to the Moon, with an extra burn. Arrival in about eight hours . . . faster than he thought. There was more.
We’re monitoring an increase in traffic from our Asian and Prussian friends. Lots of interest in Malevolent’s new heading, and some chatter about satellite pix from Luna. We may have company at some point.
Carter grimaced. His deep desire to withhold information from others was a challenging hand to play with all this watching going on. He wouldn’t be able to keep his movements quiet for much longer.
He messaged back: Understood.
She seemed preoccupied with the coastal scenery, so Clayton checked the Echo’s manifest on his device. It refreshed as items changed. Captain Powell’s top-notch crew headed the list. They had added him and Esther, along with that egghead Atteberry who should arrive at port around the same time as them. A full complement of salvage equipment had been itemized including a pair of massive excavators, most of it on board at this point. Envirosuits, food and water supplies, comms material, extra skins, repair tools . . . all the standard materials were there.
It doesn’t feel right.
He reviewed the stores through another page and found what he looked for: the weapons cache. Not labeled as such for security reasons, but there nonetheless. Carter scanned across the items, recalling what each code referred to, and reconsidered the technical parameters of the Echo herself. She was already equipped with standard issue defensive rail guns, like all ships that traveled beyond Earth’s orbit, but could also handle heavier apparatus.
He messaged Captain Powell: Let’s increase onboard weapons capability. He added several of the reference codes and sent it.
Moments later, Powell responded. R. It’ll add another few minutes to prep time.
Back on the manifest page, Carter followed the various coded items being brought on, checked off, and confirmed as someone loaded them onto the ship’s weapons bay. The Echo hadn’t been designed for combat, but with her vastly improved new engines, the combination of speed and aggression made her a formidable machine against the sluggish behemoths out there. He grinned.
You curious assholes want to tag along? Good luck.
He returned his indie-comm to the holder on his sleeve, peered over Esther’s shoulder and pointed out the Nova Scotian coastline. He keyed his mic switch. “A few more minutes, Esther, and we’ll be landing.”
She smiled groggily as if he’d awakened her. The last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind, and fatigue had set in on her face. Carter squeezed her hand and said, “Long day, huh? For all of us. We can nap on the Echo once we’re en route. There aren’t cabins per se, but there are sleeping quarters.”
Esther nodded. “I’d love a stiff drink and a sleep, to be honest.”
The pilot’s voice crackled in their headphones. “Sir, incoming flight from San Francisco, about ten minutes away and approaching from the northwest. That’ll be Mr. Atteberry arriving on schedule.”
“Perfect, thank you!”
“I also have a message from Captain Powell of the Echo. He informs me they have loaded all cargo, and she’s standing by for takeoff as soon as you’re all on board. Prepare for landing in a few minutes.”
Esther bolted up and stretched in her seat, squeezing her shoulder blades back. The heli-jet dropped altitude like a stone and flew in low over the Atlantic Ocean toward Dartmouth. Carter leaned forward between the pilot and co-pilot seats, studying the instrument panel and glancing up at the horizon. He picked up Atteberry’s flight on the orange radar screen, a recurring blip sweeping in on its own approach to the spaceport.
They flew over half a dozen trawlers and ocean-bound vessels as they neared the coast. The aircraft’s speed reduced dramatically, and the vehicle completed its voyage, blades chopping, their sound transforming as the heli-jet passed over land.
Other than a large, block-lettered “T” painted on the flat roof of a drab and inconsequential building, the Titanius hangar was unmarked. The grounds crew awaited their landing and guided the machine to ground. As the craft lowered itself out of the sky, Carter scanned the horizon, overlooking the small cities of Dartmouth and Halifax to the vast, forested areas of the province.
The long shadows of growing dusk crept over the tarmac as the heli-jet touched down and Captain Dumas cut power to the rotors. Carter unbuckled his seat harness and helped Esther out of hers. She reached for her personal bag and placed it on her lap, leaning forward. The captain twisted her body around, facing Esther. “As soon as the engines stop, you’re safe to go. The grounds crew will take it from here.” Then she nodded and returned to her instruments.
Two men in hunter green overalls rolled a small boarding ladder toward them, holding their distance as the blades slowed down. He paid them no attention. His mind was already on board the Echo, pursuing what he believed to be the most significant evolutionary step in humankind’s quest for wealth.
Esther
Excitement tingled through her entire body as she scrambled across the tarmac toward the Titanius hangar, trying to keep up with Clayton’s long strides. They entered the building; it was darker than she’d expected. A row of computers and video screens, u-shaped work tables, and large portable white boards ran along one wall. Half a dozen technicians and other workers busied themselves in front of the boss. Strangely, she saw no evidence of the Echo being there.
Atteberry’s hypersonic craft descended onto the tarmac within a few minutes, and much to Esther’s surprise and concern, her heart skipped a beat when Jim lowered himself out of the vehicle and stepped down. One of the grounds crew greeted him, shook his hand, and motioned toward the hangar. Esther fiddled with a clasp on her travel bag.
“How well do you know him?” Carter said, watching the professor approach the building.
“Not intimately, if that’s what you mean.” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she caught herself. Heat rose in her cheeks. “But when he shared the Ross 128 signal and Kate Braddock’s subspace filter with us, we grew to enjoy each other’s company.”
Carter turned to her, and a brief, almost imperceptible flash of insecurity crossed over his face, then vanished.
Esther mulled over his words, then decided to own her feelings. “Nothing ever happened beyond coffee and an occasional meal, not that I hadn’t wanted it to. Some significant differences of opinion kept getting in the way.”
Carter nodded, and marched to the hangar door where he welcomed Atteberry with a hail fellow, well met grip and grin. Esther hung back, watching the two men posturing. When Jim caught her eye, her gaze lingered on him.
Damn it, Es, what is the matter with you?
“Ready to go, Doctor? We’ve got people to rescue and every minute counts.”
“Lead on,” she said, joining Carter and Jim in front of the main viewing screen. “But am I missing something, Clayton? Where’s the Echo?”
“Here she is.” He nodded at a technician who punched a key on the console. An image of the ship appeared, like she was inside the hangar, yet—
“Oh, sweet Jesus . . . she’s beautiful.”
Atteberry stepped forward. Blue and green light from the massive screen reflected on his face. “Holy shit.” His bag dropped to the floor. “Let’s go.”
Esther had expected a normal, almost pedestrian scout ship, perhaps with a souped-up engine array. She did not expect laying eyes on a machine as perfect and graceful as this. She swallowed hard, taking it all in.
The Echo, dressed in grey with black highlights, rested on squat, efficient landing pads. She must have been 35 or 40 meters long, streamlined in a delta wing arrow for travel through the atmosphere, but cut square at the back where the main engines were housed. Smaller, paired anti-grav thrusters ran along the side nacelles. The cockpit sat on top of the ship near the nose, where the pilot ran
through various pre-flight activities. Standard complements of rail guns completed the look, a necessary albeit unnerving requirement.
An access hatch beside the main engines had a short ramp leading up to it, and a tech stood in the frame, tablet in hand, waving at others on the ground. Around the hangar was an assortment of storage bins, hallways running away, workstations and anti-grav sleds.
“Clayton, she’s magnificent, but where is she?”
Carter flashed his smile, clearly enjoying his big reveal. “Watch this.” He nodded to the tech at the controls, who then barked instructions through a headset before he gave Carter a thumbs up. A low, heavy rumble shivered up through her boots. Then, a section of tarmac opened, and the Echo emerged from her underground home, riding a massive hydraulic platform until she was flush with the ground.
“Voila!”
In the early evening light, the Echo’s metallic grey shone like gold against a backdrop of deep greens and blue-orange skies. Jim peered at Esther with a pained, anxious look.
“Ready?” Carter didn’t wait for a response, but instead grabbed his kit, thanked the surrounding techs, and marched to the door.
“Come on, Jim, let’s go find Mary.”
Atteberry rubbed his red eyes. A worker handed him two Kevlar skins on the way, then he and Esther raced to catch up with Carter. Once they’d entered the ship through the port side ramp, the tech with the tablet stepped off, nodded, and closed the hatchway.
Carter marched ahead of them through the fuselage, pulling on a headset from a storage compartment. He motioned for them to hurry and follow. “Here, this one’s for you, Esther. Mr. Atteberry, there’s yours,” he said, pointing to an open storage shelf. “I’ll give you the grand tour once we leave orbit.”
He had already made his way to the bridge and was talking to the pilot. Some thin, muscular woman, who introduced herself as Ishani, escorted her and Jim forward where the thick padded flight seats were, strapped them in for launch, and secured their harnesses. Carter joined them in a moment, grinning like a possessed man as he took his seat and buckled up.
Esther barely contained her amazement at the flashing images on the various viewscreens around her. On one, her own vital signs appeared through sensors in the flight chair, along with numerous impressions of the ship’s deck and different camera shots down the length of the ship. Carter’s voice boomed through her earphones. He described where the cameras were and what they monitored.
“Once we leave orbit, the ship’s simulated gravity will kick in and we can move around.”
Esther turned her head and shoulders to her left and saw Jim’s tired face, eyes stretched wide. A mix of nervous anxiety and excitement coursed through her body as she leaned back into the seat and gripped the armrests.
In a moment, Captain Powell ran through a pre-launch checklist. From what she could tell, there was a modest crew of five: the captain and pilot, a co-pilot named Elin Jenson, Ishani, a smiley fellow— Fowler Quigg—who’d buckled in on the bridge . . . a comms guy perhaps . . . and another heavyset man called Dub, dressed like Ishani.
The Echo’s maneuvering thrusters kicked in, and the ship rose so smoothly she barely noticed the motion. On the screens, through a camera in the ship’s belly, she watched the Echo pulled away from the tarmac. In an instant, the craft was several thousand meters above ground and rising.
“Here it comes,” Carter said, and braced himself in the cushioned seat.
“Engage main engine thrusters.”
What happened next she could only describe as the most powerful, full-body crush she’d ever experienced. Esther was no neophyte when it came to space travel, but it had been a while since she’d flown, and back then, the boats were nothing like this creature. The engines roared to life and in a flash, the ship screamed forward through the atmosphere, burning hard to escape the Earth’s gravitational pull, stealing the wind from her lungs.
Atteberry’s voice panted over the earphones, a series of oh my god and oh shit. Gravitational forces ripped through Esther’s body, preventing her from looking over at him. She closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing.
After several minutes, the flight became smoother. Esther relaxed and looked around. On the main screen, stars appeared from a nose camera as the vehicle banked upwards. Thin, residual terran atmosphere softened the view like an impressionist painting, and suddenly through it all shone Luna, brilliant against the dark expanse of space.
TWENTY-ONE
Kate
“How’s the antenna?”
“Almost done, I gotta finish cleaning the dust out of the feedline connector.” Mary frowned and sighed. “But I’m not sure about power output. It’s not responding like it should.”
“Let’s take a look.”
Mary placed the Yagi on an empty spot on the console and showed Kate the guts of the transceiver she’d been working on. When they tested the radio’s stages, everything measured normal. Test current flowed undisturbed through each circuit, but something suppressed the transmitter power output as it registered barely half a watt.
“That’s not enough to throw a signal across the room, let alone anywhere near Earth,” Mary grumbled.
They stared at the growing pile of equipment. The temperature in the habitat now hovered around eight degrees Celsius, and Kate blew into her hands to warm them up. The excess drain on the power supply must have affected the environment.
“There’s nothing I can do to fix this. We just don’t have the right tools or any spare parts. We’ll do what we can and hope there’s a ship close enough to pick up our signal.”
Kate recalled her last discussion with Stan Petrovic from Titanius headquarters about any ships being nearby. There wasn’t much traffic, but perhaps they’ve redirected one now, assuming they’re aware of the crisis. Then, out of nowhere, a nervous thought occurred to her. She immediately dismissed it as nonsense, but it kept rattling around in her head and wouldn’t disappear.
Would the alien ship pick up a signal this weak?
“I wonder if we can somehow amplify it,” Kate suggested. “The Yagi’s already capable of transmitting in a tight, coherent beam, but what if there’s an external amplifier to boost the output power itself?”
Mary scrunched her eyes in that way of hers when she recalled information, as if she was mentally flipped through pages of data. Kate figured she must have an eidetic memory, and this was how she reconstructed images of she’d seen. One Spacer she worked with on a radioactive waste dump years ago did the same thing, without any noticeable facial changes. His recall wasn’t perfect, but more accurate than anything she’d ever experienced. She smiled, thinking about that boy, as Mary sat there.
Finally, she said, “Let’s check that box of spare parts again.”
Kate lifted the equipment bin onto the console and Mary fished through it deliberately, inspecting each item she pulled out.
“I thought I saw a piece with large fins on it. Anything generating that kind of heat must handle big power.” She dove through various measuring devices: a wattmeter, SWR indicator, some random patching cables. “There it is.”
What Mary grabbed looked like a clay brick with cooling blades sticking out the back. She turned it over several times, running one of her long fingers over the heat sink, and blowing dust out of the input and output connectors.
“What do you think?”
Mary grimaced and brushed the hair out of her face. “It’s definitely a power amplifier, but I’ve no idea what frequency range it’ll operate in. Maybe it’s a custom-built job for the habitat comms or something.” She grabbed the screwdriver from her belt and applied it to the screws on the bottom of the unit. “I’ll pop this off and take a look.”
Kate studied her as she tore into the amplifier and wondered what it must have been like for Mary to grow up with an English prof and radio astronomy enthusiast as a dad. One of the lucky ones, for sure. Her own father—at least what she remembered of him—carried himself quieter th
an Jim Atteberry. He was a gentle, loving man, and read to her in front of the fireplace on cold nights even when she was old enough to read by herself. Not stories from any kind of literary megatext or technical journals though. His were from her own family history, part fact, part fiction, full of deep insights and connections. A flood of ancient emotions rose in her chest.
“There’s nothing on this gear to show operating frequency, and I’ve got no way to measure it. I’m sure the amplifier’s built for the UHF spectrum, and that’s what we want, but without knowing its bandwidth, it could be useless or worse.”
Kate refocused on Mary’s words. “How so?”
“Well, if the frequencies are off, it simply won’t work. But there’s a chance the higher output power will feed back into the radio circuits. If that happens, it could fry the transceiver completely. Anyway,” she added, “the amp seems to be intact if you want to fire it up.”
Kate stood up and stretched, not knowing what to do and desperately hiding her uncertainty from Mary. Not long ago, she’d never had an issue with decision-making. When did that change? Mount Sutro? First coming to Luna? Or did it begin with the Rossian ship emitting a shock wave so powerful it took down the entire lab?
Before she could reason it through, Mary’s head snapped up from her equipment, her eyes scanning the control room. “What’s that noise?”
Kate listened and heard it, too. She glanced at the main screen displaying all the environmental parameters, but nothing adverse appeared. All green lights. Even so, Mary was right. An odd sound emerged from the side of the habitat where the oxygenator feed entered. The machine felt different; the pitch of its operating frequency altered slightly. Then, the connecting spigot where the empty air canisters were being filled coughed and cracked. Kate’s heart plummeted deep into her gut.
“Shit.”
She jumped over to the canister and closed the tap on the outport, but the oxygenator continued hacking and sputtering. Kate adjusted the power flowing into the unit to stabilize the apparatus. At first, there was no change but, over the course of several seconds, the machine returned to its normal operating parameters. All environmental lights remained green on the viewscreen. It sounded right again.
Echoes In The Grey Page 19
