Adam's Rings

by Matthew D. White

  Sergey’s voice returned. “I figured you’d take the elevator.”

  Adam laughed. “You’re funny. No, really.”

  “I’m serious. We’ve got you a mission on the elevator.”

  Adam caught a sideways glance from Erin. “Elevator. Like, a space elevator?”

  “Only the biggest advancement in space lift science since the solid-fuel rocket,” Sergey replied. “Maiden voyage was just over eighteen months ago. We can move payloads to and from orbit for pennies, compared to traditional launches. It’s a few hours to climb up instead of minutes, but there’s no comparing the two.”

  The pair of astronauts listened in silence as the operator continued his proud explanation. “You didn’t know about this?” Adam whispered to Erin.

  “No, not a peep,” she admitted. “My memories must have been collected away from its development. Or maybe just before the discoveries needed to put it in the roadmap.”

  “They could have just decided to keep it a secret, but I’m sure we’ll find out before too long.”

  “…now, we have a crew standing by to assist in docking, plus ground transportation to get you back to civilization and on with your grand tour…”

  “Or not,” Adam said with a smirk, unable to shrug without a local gravitational field. They continued watching the blue orb grow in the distance, slowly getting larger, until a fibrous glint caught their eyes, jutting from the equator like a pin balanced on a basketball.

  “That must be it,” Adam repeated, breaking the silence of the capsule. “What all else do you think we’ve missed?”

  “Shhh,” Erin replied, not letting her gaze leave the window. “It shouldn’t be possible.”

  “I’d take your time in making that determination.”

  The station took on more detail as they drifted closer, the technological marvel nearly stealing the show from the glowing landscape far below. At its apex rested a cluster of the heavy transport pods, tethered about a core and dragging with it a number of high-tension wisps disappearing down through the atmosphere. A smaller ring about the size of Draco’s upper level was docked below the primary assembly and was apparently the target of the spacecraft as the computer maneuvered them beside it.

  Adam held his breath as a sharp jolt echoed through the ship as they latched on, only to watch the bulkhead behind him slam shut and disconnect the heavy stage from their ship.

  “The stages need to be loaded evenly around the tram,” Jim interjected. “If you keep the whole ship to one side, the cables will bind and you won’t be able to hit the landing pad.”

  “I’ll have to keep that in mind,” Adam quipped and watched the forward access hatch slide sideways and provide the first glimpse at the interior of the Earth-bound station.

  The light from the far side, while still white, seemed to slide ever so gently into blue, as if it had taken on the character of the planet itself. Adam maneuvered himself about and let himself drift through, coming face to face with an astronaut waiting at the edge of the pod.

  “Captain Montgomery!” the older man exclaimed. “Welcome home!” He floated closer and shook Adam’s hand.

  “Thank you. It’s… good to be back,” he said, managing to smile such that it wouldn’t appear overly forced. The man had some years on Adam, with the edges of his once-dark hair brushed with gray and matted to the side. “I hope we haven’t kept you waiting.”

  “Only years. Well, maybe not quite home, but it’s still low Earth orbit.” He laughed. “I’m Captain Rob Setser, the installation commander.”

  “This is incredible. I never imagined seeing something like this take shape in my lifetime!” Erin exclaimed as she followed through, taking in the sight of the planet beyond the wall of windows to their side.

  “Dr. Moroder, your work has been highly anticipated as well,” Setser added.

  “Thank you,” she said, still staring at the sprawling atmosphere far below. “How did you do this?”

  “Nothing short of a miracle, I assure you. Miles of high-tension threads held aloft on aerostats and a pass by a highly-elliptical satellite in an orbit that I still can’t comprehend to keep it stationary enough for the mission. I’ve watched it go from drawing board to sustainment in my career and somehow, they now trust me with it. Wonders never cease.” He paused and followed Erin’s gaze beyond the station. “It still takes my breath away. I’m surprised you didn’t hear rumblings of the development before the Gemini launch.”

  Erin shrugged, still with her eyes caged. “I must have missed it. Once it got beyond my primary research, I generally stayed away.”

  “I can imagine,” Setser said. “Ensign Thomas is bringing in the rest of your ship onboard for docking. Once complete, you’ll get a much closer look at it all.”

  Adam wasn’t entirely certain what he was witnessing. Either the captain was in the dark as to the true nature of his guests or he was still operating on their original construct, obfuscating or avoiding any mention of the Orbital Genesis. It was a question for another time. He sensed no danger save for the obvious nature of the station, and thus relaxed, a load removed from his shoulders far more substantially than if Draco’s voice had erupted from the intercom. “How long will it take us to reach the surface?” he finally asked.

  “With the weather clear as it is, about three hours,” Setser replied. “It’s not that bad. Nothing worse than a plane ride with the best view in the world. It’s closer to six on the way back up, but still doable.”

  “Not quite minutes via rocket,” Erin quipped.

  “No, ma’am, not in the least. They’re still in the inventory, but for the price of moving a person, we can deploy an entire station with this facility.

  The face of Ensign Thomas appeared in the adjoining pod’s doorway. “Sir, docking compete, we’re good to descend.”

  “Excellent. Proceed; we don’t want to keep our guests waiting,” Setser ordered, then looked between the new arrivals. “Get settled. You’re in for a show.”

  They transitioned to a row of jump seats along the interior wall of the tram before securing themselves in place. Adam felt a jolt beneath his feet, then suddenly went nearly weightless as they dropped from the orbiting station. He gasped at the sudden rush, recomposing himself by staring out across the horizon as it slowly began to change its aspect in the distance.

  “Half of the upper station holds the retainers for the cycling fibers,” Setser explained calmly and without regard to the movement. “There are sixteen total: eight sets of the active cyclers, plus another eight static for positioning and risk reduction. While early prototypes crawled along the lines, a better solution was found in using engines at the base to move the fibers, while the tram holds itself in place.”

  Below, the swirls of color began to separate into definite features, splitting into a green continent spilling into a sea of blue to the west. “Where are we?” Adam finally asked.

  “The station is moored above Ecuador’s capital of Quito across the ridge from the Pichincha volcano. It’s about the highest point on the equator and gives us over two miles of altitude before we even launch,” Setser explained. “We’ve drawn in a decent technical workforce to the area, but we can also lift equipment in and out by land or air for more specialized missions stateside, as in your case.”

  Adam could make out rows of mountains jutting up from the distance in all directions as they continued to slide down the fibers, eventually slowing and coming gently to rest. A series of low rumbles passed through the tram as the support equipment engaged and latched onto the payload of ship components. Setser seemed satisfied and unhooked the harness while getting to his feet. “It’s about time,” he said as the outer seal popped, flooding the room with a fresh blaze of light. “Welcome to Earth.”

  The sight trailed Adam’s comprehension for a moment as he sat facing away from the hatch, but the smell did no such thing. In an instant, every olfactory gland in his face exploded at the onset of a symphony of chemical compounds. T
he melody of a thousand flower gardens danced above a breeze from the ocean, washing away the dull artificial sensations of Draco Station. He gulped in air, for once not mechanically recycled a thousand times over, and followed Colonel Setser alongside Dr. Moroder from the cabin.

  Outside on the metal access platform, the air blew steady, warm and inviting enough for him to nearly miss the technological marvel of the ground control station. Encircling the center was an array of short buildings, somewhere between bunkers and small aircraft hangars, which terminated at the center. Each evidently managed a single fiber on the station, but from the angle, Adam couldn’t make them out. The components of their spacecraft hanging beneath the tram looked worse for the wear, having lost the shimmering newness he had become accustomed to and given way to the dents and dull wearing of constant entropy.

  Sergey Vorobyov waited for them on the far side of the catwalk with a pair of mirrored aviators across his eyes and a wide smile on his face. Although Adam could instantly identify the man from their many discussions, he was at once shorter and older than he had remembered.

  “Captain!” he exclaimed, bounding forward, his loose suit jacket blowing in the steady wind. “I can’t believe you made it!”

  “You’re telling me,” Adam replied, shaking his hand. “I never thought the day would come. You been waiting long?”

  “Might say that,” Sergey said, “and you haven’t aged a day since leaving Draco. We must have done a few things right,” he added, exchanging the same greetings with Erin before leading them away from the elevator. “Come, we’ve got some things to discuss.”

  The words held a sense of foreboding as Sergey continued their short trek through the compound to the facing runway and the small private aircraft awaiting their arrival. They boarded and the technician’s face turned somber as he dropped into his seat.

  “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” Erin asked as she took the facing chair, the trio now in a circle at the middle of the well-apportioned cabin.

  Sergey shifted his weight, an increasing look of discomfort building across his face. “You’re here safely and that’s the good news. I also have the honor to bestow the bad.” He opened a folder lying on the table beside him and stopped, willing the words typed before him to change. “By itself, this trip would hardly be worth it, but it’s never that easy. Going by the results of your normal blood tests provided by Draco Station and the frequent abdominal pain, we believe you have malignant tumors growing in your stomach, liver, and intestines, likely brought about by the continual exposure to cosmic radiation.”

  Adam sat in place, staring at his friend, churning over the words. Although he didn’t turn, he could feel Erin’s eyes growing wide with concern.

  “While your genetic profile is hardened against transcription errors supported by your strict diet, it has been insufficient to counteract the extended spacewalks and your younger-than-anticipated frame. The smaller size and rapid development outside of the heavily-shielded tube contributed to rapid cellular degeneration. This is simply a mission profile we were unable to anticipate,” Sergey said with a sigh again. “Along with the previous request regarding your work, we need you to return to the medical wing to fully explore the extent of the problem, fix it for you, and port the findings into the other Orbital Genesis crew members. If we don’t, your health will likely deteriorate quickly to the point of perishing.”

  He turned to Erin. “The last sample we received from Gemini showed improved resilience, but with the same genetic markers, it is only a matter of time before the same problems overtake you as well. In a few years, it’s likely the Hydra mission will encounter similar issues.”

  “What… what do you need me to do?” Adam whispered.

  “With your consent, Space Medicine will want to run some biopsies and find the extent of the damage. We’ll then explore treatment options, which we’ll complete throughout the duration of your visit.”

  “So, you need to test it on me? I’m your guinea pig?”

  “In a matter of speaking, yes.” Sergey’s expression continued to sink. “Trust me that there’s no one else; you’re one out of one and the best chance to fix this for everyone else.”

  “Why didn’t you tell him earlier?” Erin demanded.

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Moroder, but we required absolute secrecy for as long as possible,” Sergey replied. “If this got to the ground crews, Hydra, even the elevator’s team, it would leak to the politicians and Orbital Genesis would find itself under the axe. They’re jumpy as it is, and danger on top of ethical considerations is a bad combination. That’d be the end of space exploration for the next fifty years.”

  “You actually think it’s possible to keep something like this under wraps?” Erin said again. “Space flight is an open book, and the lessons we learn must be presented for the good of all present and future astronauts.”

  “Very true,” Sergey admitted, “but remember it’s a far easier sell when the corrective procedure is already established. Even better once it’s been applied.”

  Adam parsed the words from their guide carefully. “You’re confident you can fix me?”

  “Well, once you’re under the knife and have your organs exposed, nothing is a hundred percent,” Sergey admitted. “We do have some of the sharpest minds on the problem, so we’ve got as good a chance as ever.”

  “You’re not exactly instilling confidence,” Erin interjected.

  “It’s okay,” Adam said, waving off the comment, “you don’t need to cry over me yet. Just… do what you need to do.”

  “Don’t let this rain on your whole journey,” Sergey said, shifting to an upbeat cadence. “Once the immediate tests are performed, we’ve got a full schedule with the staff at NASA then a circuit of academic institutions before an address to Congress.”

  “Those last two aren’t related, are they?” Erin said with a raised eyebrow.

  “When you’re ready,” Sergey continued and ignored the quip, “we’ve also prepared a staff to guide you toward a dissertation regarding your work on the atmospheric content of Saturn. It’s all up to you and whatever you have the energy to tackle. There are a thousand venues that would love to see you.”

  “Have you forgotten something?” Adam asked as he leaned back and crossed his arms. The plane jolted lightly on a patch of turbulent air.

  “Absolutely not,” Sergey was adamant. “We’ve taken care of everything. Even your more unconventional requests.”

  ***

  Several hours of conversation and restless sleep later, the plane touched down at their destination, and the three found themselves escorted across the base to a sprawling medical complex that towered above their heads. The sun had barely peeked its way above the horizon in the earliest reaches of the morning, and it cast a long shadow from the structure’s walls.

  “I hope you’ve enjoyed the introduction to Earth,” Sergey said as he led them inside. “It will be far more difficult to say goodbye.”

  “How’s that?” Adam asked, taking his place at the back of the procession.

  “We’ve had the liberty of adjusting your digestive tracts to take normal food and increase your resilience to common diseases throughout your trip back, but before we put you into orbit, we’ll need to reverse the process. For reference, it’ll fall somewhere between getting scrubbed down with bleach and being radiologically sterilized.”

  Sweat beaded on Adam’s forehead as he at once felt overwhelmed. The stinging knot in his stomach tightened. At least there was no one else in the hallway to see him stumble as they were apparently able to carry out the tacit entrance requested by their leadership.

  “Experimental Medicine is this way,” Sergey announced, taking a right through a pair of heavy doors marked with radiological warnings and ending their journey in a small waiting room to the left. The bland furniture and stoic architecture of the facility was as Adam had remembered from his childhood and didn’t stand out in any memorable way. He further lost interest once
the attending physician, who identified himself as Dr. Lewis, entered and began enumerating the problems surrounding Adam’s health.

  The doctor’s description grew long and technical, until Adam held up his hands. The tone of the conversation was far less positive than Sergey had made it out to be, but Adam hated to call him on it. “I know I’m not the expert, but I don’t have the greatest faith in the system right now. Just tell me,” he asked Lewis, “if you do what you want, what are my chances of survival?”

  The physician shifted his weight. “Likely upwards of sixty percent, if we act quickly, but it could change significantly once we take and read the biopsies. Also remember…”

  “Fine, I’ll do it. Do what you need to do.”

  “…that the outcome of our work should significantly reduce the risk for the rest of the Orbital Genesis subjects,” Lewis added. He turned the board he was carrying around and placed it in front of the astronaut. “This is the waiver. I’ll need your signature.”

  The page of text effectively abdicated control of his body, Adam understood. With his mark, he’d be reduced to being an experimental subject. His brain was still formulating a response and denial of the facts when he scribbled a few letters at the bottom and turned it back around. “Done,” he confirmed.

  Heroes

  More than six hours later, the laboratory doors swung open and Dr. Lewis again emerged in the waiting area, visibly weary from whatever process had just transpired. He turned to face Erin who got to her feet as he entered. She had traded the Gemini uniform for a black business suit during the shift and looked to have somewhat adjusted to being back Earth.

  “How is he?” she asked immediately.

  “He’s resting for the moment,” Lewis reported. “I’d like to say that it’s not as bad as it could have been, but truth is, not by much. CT scan showed twenty separate masses across his chest and abdomen.”

  Erin clamped a hand across her mouth as he continued. “Biopsy results are still pending, but I’d expect the worst. We’re looking at a complete breakdown of the genetic hardening profile.”