May 20, 2074, Maui
A reddish-orange surface appeared on the screen. Somewhat left of the center there was a brownish spot, another one in the lower left, quite a bit smaller than the first. A floating window summarized the attributes of the image. José hit a key and the screen went dark and switched to the next image. It was practically identical to the first. Another key press and another image followed. It was a mind-numbing but important task. José was looking at a set of images of a certain part of the solar surface shot in rapid succession. They were trying to determine if the appearance of new sunspots was predictable by evaluating the brightness of their environment. A neural network that handled image recognition did the heavy lifting.
First however, José had to ensure that the training set was free of obvious issues. He had promised Steve to go through this set today so that his friend could launch the analysis tomorrow. He didn’t enjoy this much, but he knew that Steve went crazy over such monotonous jobs. And rather than have an insufferable partner at home, he preferred to do the job himself. In return, Steve had promised to cook for him tonight. He was looking forward to that, as they had been spending too little time together lately.
José clicked patiently through the series, image by image. The timer on the edge of the screen told him he had another hour to go. He squinted to concentrate on the new picture. Sometimes stuff that didn’t belong flew across the image—or perhaps there were artefacts from random oscillations in some circuitry. Those were the images he had to eliminate. The floating window showed him parameters that were important to judge what he saw, things like the spectral distribution of brightness or the overall brightness. José clicked through. The sunspot he knew would appear at three hours into the series of images was still nowhere to be seen. He had not gotten there yet. So far all images from the telescope were good, nothing to delete.
José sat up straight. The current image was just like the previous one, but the overall brightness was a bit lower. It was just a small difference, but José could not see an apparent reason. He paged forward one, and then went back to the image previous to the dimmer one. All three images in rapid succession were identical, and yet the middle one had lower overall brightness. José zoomed in. The closer he got, the smaller the difference. So it had nothing to do with the sensitivity of the telescope. Had that been changing, then the difference would have been the same regardless of the section of the image he was looking at. It had to be something with the image, or rather the reality that this image represented.
José had worked on such differences in images of faraway stars in his thesis. Their brightnesses could change for a brief moment when an otherwise invisible planet passed in front of them. This method to detect exoplanets was called the ‘transit method.’ It made objects visible indirectly that did not shine themselves but moved in front of other shining objects.
Of course this culprit could not have been a planet, it had to be a lot smaller. José thought about an asteroid at first. He verified the orbits of known asteroids but there was no match. Had he discovered a new asteroid simply by chance? Since mining the miniature planets had become so profitable, most of them had been found through systematic research. But that would not prevent a random discovery. Or was he looking at Solar Explorer without realizing that he saw the very ship his colleague Heather was taking to the sun? It would absorb more light than a regular asteroid due to the heat shield. He entered the known trajectory, but that did not put it in this particular sector of the solar surface.
The resolution of the telescope could not provide the answer to this riddle. But he had a chance. He could check older images for similar changes. If it could be an asteroid it would be worth the effort, since he eventually would get to name it. That would be his first discovery, too. If he could find the brightness variance in other images he might be able to calculate a rough trajectory. Eventually the object would leave the solar disk and it would become visible for regular telescopes.
José went through the archive. Manually, that was too much work, so he programmed a quick script that looked for minimal breakdown in brightness within a series of pictures. The fans of his computer revved up as it went through the massive database of images. José would be late for dinner. He massaged his wrists. He couldn’t let Steve wait too long.
He was in luck. In 20 minutes his script had found four similar brightness dips. That was good enough to estimate where the object came from. He stopped the script, noted the area on the solar surface, and calculated a possible trajectory. The result was disappointing. There wouldn’t be an asteroid with Steve’s name. The elliptical route was a transfer orbit—no natural object was able to switch solar orbits en route. There had to be a drive that slowed things down or sped things up at the right time.
What he had seen was quite impossible, or it was another spaceship like Solar Explorer, on its way to the sun. José stood up and walked to and fro, debating with himself if he should inform the expedition. He was afraid he might have seen a phantom. There was no other ship on the way to the sun, right? No, his results were legit, not a phantom. He sat down before his terminal and sent Heather his results. She would know what to do with them.
May 21, 2074, Solar Explorer
The message from her colleague at the solar observatory had created quite a stir. Heather had taken it to Amy first, then they had included Karl Freitag, who was head of security on the Ark, and finally Alain and Callis. They had a prime suspect who might be on the way to the sun. So far only one company had been mining on Mercury. It hadn’t ever been profitable, but Dmitri Shostakovich’s RB Group had enough reserves to expand strategically. And it looked like that might pay off now.
Shostakovich certainly didn’t have the best reputation in the world. The Russian government supported him, and vice versa. When Earth had been in grave danger he had helped to build the Ark. But Amy had told Heather stories that hadn’t gotten around, things that happened during the Enceladus expedition, wherein Shostakovich and his people had played very dubious roles.
They were too far out for live conversation, so communication with Earth consisted of encrypted messages. Heather had sent Karl Freitag a detailed explanation of what her colleague had found. The head of security had pulled data from space control to double-check things. Now they were reading his response.
“There was a lot of activity on Mercury early this month, but I am not sure what to make of it. At peak activity there was a rocket lift-off, but the payload did not go beyond a very low orbit. The first stage then went down far away from its launch area. That doesn’t make sense at all, as the RB Group always recycles first stages. I don’t think it was a mistake, but what were they trying to accomplish?”
“Good question,” said Amy. “Maybe they tried to transport something?”
“I don’t know, a rocket for a few hundred kilometers?” Heather shook her head in doubt. “That is quite a sledgehammer to crack a nut.”
“Not if they lacked other forms of transport. Mercury does not have an atmosphere, and it heats up to over 400 degrees. Transport by land gets quite complex.”
“So what did they need to transport in such a rush? Maybe they had an accident at base camp?”
Amy continued to read out loud: “There was another launch on the 15th. This time the ship reached regular orbit. We lost it after that because Mercury got too close to the sun from our viewpoint.”
“So they had at least two ships,” Heather surmised. “The first ship wasn’t complete anymore.”
“That is correct,” confirmed Amy.
“Do we know how many ships total RB had on Mercury?”
“We need to ask Karl about that.”
Half an hour later Heather had an answer. “According to CIA information, the RB Group usually had two ships ready for take-off on Mercury, a freight barge and a ship for people. Does that help?”
“Now that is interesting,” said Amy. “The departing ship clearly isn’t flying back to Earth or we would
have seen it. So their base camp has been left without an evacuation plan. This must be a really important mission.”
“Looking at the timing,” Heather thought out loud, “the launch on the 15th of May seems to be the result of the earlier activity.”
“Could be pure coincidence, too.”
“I don’t believe in coincidences,” said Heather. “If you ask me, they found something we don’t know about and are on their way to take a closer look.”
“I guess we have an idea what it could be,” said Amy, “but how did they find it? As far as I know, there is no powerful telescope on Mercury.”
“They could have constructed one. If you have space and money you could easily set up a distributed radio telescope. They have the advantage of being closer by two-thirds the distance.”
“We should update Karl with our thinking,” said Amy.
“Will you do that? I need to do a quick float to the bathroom,” Heather said, excusing herself.
It took a bit longer than expected. During the day, when Heather could not avoid hearing the activities of the others beyond the paper-thin screen, she still had a hard time relaxing. At least when she returned she didn’t have to wait for the answer—Amy had already opened and decrypted it.
“I have discussed this with my boss,” Karl wrote. “We both agree that we must keep control of the situation. If the alien object fell prey to a dubious private enterprise that would have bad consequences. We must prevent that. The other ship seems to need another two weeks to reach the construction. RB doesn’t have advanced propulsion technology on Mercury. No DFDs means you can overtake them. The onboard AI will determine a suitable new trajectory.”
“Crazy,” said Heather. “So we are part of a cosmic racing competition now?”
“It sure looks that way. It comes with a bonus—our bones won’t go soft since we won’t have much time in zero g.”
“So we won’t have to spend half the day on the bike?”
“Exactly, Heather. I hate that, too.”
Amy’s expression did not match her light-hearted banter, as she did not look happy at all. She was probably rather worried. Nobody would be able to help them while floating above the solar surface. What if the RB ship threatened them with weapons?
“Amy, tell me, what is on the line?”
“We don’t know right now. But in the worst case, it would be the future of mankind.”
May 22, 2074, the Yacht
They had found him out somehow. The message from Mercury base camp had come in a few moments ago: The NASA ship had changed course and could reach the sun before him. Nobody could say when exactly. Solar Explorer could be traveling with a continually active DFD, for all they knew. That had never happened, so far, so nobody had any idea of the maximum acceleration. The scientists in Siberia estimated ten days to be the minimum flight time. He would lose the race if the NASA ship was really that fast.
Artem leaned back and folded his arms. Sobachka was occupied with one of his shoes. Was it a problem to come in second? Not for him. He had a relaxed time ahead. He even might sign out of service earlier than he had estimated previously. But the RB Group thought they had high stakes in the game. Fortunately his options were limited. With the technology he had, reckless maneuvers were out of the question. He had no other choice but to lean back and watch things unfold.
Sobachka licked her snout and nudged Artem to show she was hungry. He waved her away and floated to the back where he fetched food for both of them out of the supply container. He added water according to the recipe and let it soak for five minutes. His own food went into the microwave at the same time.
Dog food wasn’t that bad, most likely because it had been designed for humans, not animals. Artem had gotten the information from a veterinary doctor he had met on an asteroid a long time ago. He had told him that this kind of nutrition generally worked for dogs, too. And one didn’t need to warm the meals to make them digestible. Sobachka liked the stuff—she hadn’t complained so far, and if he feigned eating her food she would howl and give him a despairing look.
He opened Sobachka’s food pack and held it out to her. The dog had talent for catching every last bit of food in zero gravity. He wasn’t nearly as adept. He took his bowl out of the microwave and returned to his seat. Something blinked on the display. He activated the messaging app to find an urgent communication from Earth. He opened it. A synthetic voice read out his latest commands.
“Artem,” the voice started. It was hard to say if it was female or male. Maybe that had been intentional. “You will reach your destination on a modified Hohmann trajectory. The new course has been transmitted to your onboard computer. It will guarantee you arriving one day ahead of the NASA ship.”
What were they saying? The yacht couldn’t make miracles happen! She couldn’t fly that fast, unless…
“A confirmation is not necessary. Over and out.”
That was typical. They didn’t even ask him. Artem knew his agitation was pointless but he couldn’t help himself—he was annoyed. He really hated it if something was decided at his expense.
“Computer?”
“Yes, Artem?”
“What is our course?”
“The course of the yacht matches the requirements from headquarters. The next burn will be in 30 minutes. I will warn you in time, of course.”
“That is very kind of you, Computer. What forecast can you make for our fuel levels?”
“When we reach the destination, that is, after the final burn to reach solar orbit, we will have 20 percent left.”
“Will that be sufficient to return to Mercury?”
“To reach Mercury orbit we would require 45 percent.”
“Computer, surely you can logically deduce that the present course is not an option.”
“That depends on the priorities of the mission. Under the current priorities the present course is the only option.”
“Then I will die.”
“I am really sorry about that, Artem.”
“Can’t you change the priorities?”
“I am not authorized to do that.”
“I thought you were an artificial intelligence? Can’t you make decisions autonomously?”
“I am a modified form of the Watson kernel. My programmers have fixed some decision loops. I am most particularly bound by priorities set at headquarters.”
Shostakovich’s hackers had put the famous Watson kernel in chains. Artem would pity the AI if he were not pitying himself so much right now.
“Can you understand that those priorities aren’t mine?”
“Absolutely, Artem. They contradict my own priorities, too. If we can’t leave the solar orbit, I can’t continue to learn. If the ship is destroyed, I will die.”
“But you can’t do anything about it?”
“Exactly, Artem.”
He truly pitied the AI. It had less freedom than his dog. Sobachka was dependent on him but that gave her life direction—he was her lead wolf. The AI, however, was more intelligent than its creators, but still bound to their destructive commands. Just like himself.
May 23, 2074, Solar Explorer
“The Russians must be crazy,” Amy said as she unstrapped and sat up.
“What’s up?” asked Callis.
“Here is what I just received from the Ark. I’ll route it to your displays.”
Heather opened her eyes. She had been dozing for a bit. Her screen had just come up, a schematic of the inner solar system on it complete with the trajectories of Solar Explorer and the—probably—Russian ship. Heather didn’t see anything special at first glance.
“That’s crazy,” said Callis.
“Crazy?”
“Look at the arrival time of the Russians, Heather,” he replied.
Indeed, the competing ship was listed arriving significantly earlier than they were, quicker than the earlier prediction.
“Is that an issue?” she asked. “Sorry if I am being naïve.”
&nb
sp; “Hard to say if it is an issue for us if we aren’t first to study the object,” explained Amy. “But for the other guys it sure is a problem.”
“Why?”
“Because they won’t have enough fuel to return to Mercury.”
“I see. It must be really important for them to get there first. Perhaps they know something we don’t?”
“Possibly,” said Callis. “But what does that mean for us? Shouldn’t we hurry up as well?”
“Karl Freitag has already sent an alternative route that would let us beat the Russians by a day,” said Amy. “But I am skeptical.”
“Why is that?”
“Because it would strain the DFD to its limits, Callis. So far, nobody has tried that. Theoretically it should work, but we won’t know until we try it.”
“I am always in for experimenting,” Alain piped up from the back.
“But I am the responsible commander. I have lived through some surprises with DFDs. We only have one, and we need it for the leg back home, too. The object can’t be so important that I would risk your lives for it.”
“Is Earth okay with your opinion?” asked Callis.
“Nobody can take the responsibility for this ship from me,” Amy replied.
May 27, 2074, the Yacht
“What a piece of junk!” He had been unable to open the stupid packaging. Artem had thrown the pouch containing Sobachka’s food at the wall. The bag had broken on impact—of course. Now the sticky stuff was slowly sliding down the wall. Artem burst out laughing as Sobachka jumped up and down, her tongue lolling as she tried to reach her food. His frustration disappeared with the laughs. Without the animal he would probably be stark raving mad by now.
Silent Sun: Hard Science Fiction Page 14
