30. Conspiracy Theory
Michael Carroll1
(1)Littleton, CO, USA
“Let me tell you what’s wrong,” Kinto said through clenched teeth. He grabbed Jessie and Marv by the elbows and ushered them into the hallway, away from the crowded room. He glanced up and down the corridor. No one was around. Apparently, everybody’s attention was riveted on Admiral Montenegro and his wild new universe.
“Can I give you guys a quick history lesson?” Kinto hissed.
Marv bristled. “I don’t need no stinkin’—”
“Let the man speak,” Jessie cut in.
“Look,” Kinto said urgently, quietly. “Adolf Hitler had things well in hand a few years into World War Two. He held most of Europe. He had not yet pissed off the Russians, and he had planned on leaving America out of things as well. If Japan hadn’t bombed Pearl Harbor, he probably would have made it to world domination.”
Marv was looking at Kinto with something like admiration. “Where do you get all this stuff?”
“I have some military experience,” Kinto whispered darkly. “If he had stopped there, regrouped maybe, the Third Reich might have been alive and well for a thousand years. But he just kept adding to his shopping list. He wanted North Africa. He wanted the southern states of Asia Minor. He got greedy. He just didn’t know when to stop. Same with the Romans, and the Ottoman Empire. Every one of them overextended themselves.”
Jessie held up her hand. They saw a shadow. A man with wild red hair and eyes to match came bounding down the corridor and turned toward the maintenance area. He was struggling to carry a large piece of equipment with some wires sticking out.
“What’s that guy bringing in?” Marv asked.
“No idea,” Kinto snapped.
“And you think Montenegro is making the same mistake?” Jessie asked, urging him back to the subject at hand.
“Where’s he going to stop? Is it on to the Balkans? Then Russia? Once we control the Jovian system do we move into the Martian realm? Earth would be impossible. But what’s going to stop him from trying? He’s going to self-destruct. It’s the same old story. He’ll be on to Mars with his visions of grandeur before you know it, and it will be full-fledged war. I say there’s a better option. If we don’t go too far, if we set our sights in a limited and doable way—control Titan from Northern Quad and, from it, the entire Saturn system—we can end up on top and live like kings, have the kind of wealth and power the Admiral is talking about. The Saturn system is vast in the right kind of resources, but remote and limited enough to defend. Later, step-by-step, maybe we move on to Uranus or Jupiter. I say Uranus would be easier.”
“Jupiter is the bigger jewel,” Jessie objected.
“Sure, and that’s exactly what makes it harder to take. It’s well defended. It’s also a lot closer to Mars, and Mars has lots of military.”
“Listen to you two!” Marv whined. “You guys are talking mutiny!”
Kinto held Marv by the shoulders. This was no time for the man to be panicking. “Marv, my fine man, we are not talking anything in specific. We are just…talking. Thinking out loud. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Options to be discussed. Amongst the Family.”
“Right.”
“Hey!” The redhead was back. He seemed agitated. “I brought something for the Admiral.”
Marv said, “He’s a little busy right now.”
“I’ll wait. You guys want to see something amazing? Really Earth-shattering? Or should I say, Titan shattering? Actually, universe shattering. There’s something out there.” The man nodded down the hall toward the dock.
“Out there? Out there where?” Jessie prodded.
“Outside. I recorded it on my sub. Want to see?” The man had a strange light in his eyes.
“You have a sub.” Kinto said flatly.
“I do. Come, come. You guys will not believe this.”
“I don’t already,” Kinto said.
Marv shook his head. “You guys go ahead. Really.” He headed back into the room to hear Montenegro talk some more.
Kinto leaned over to Jessie as they struggled to keep pace with the crazed visitor. “We gotta keep an eye on this one. Where’s security, anyway?”
She hooked a thumb back toward the sounds of the speech. “Probably in there.”
The man continued at a furious pace, but reached behind himself unstably to shake their hands. “Troy Fels.” He grabbed Jessie’s hand. “Troy Fels.” He grabbed Kinto’s. He swiveled forward again before they had the chance to say anything. “It’s just down here.”
A look of recognition crossed Jessie’s face. “You’re the guy from Mayda Station, right?”
He didn’t seem to hear. “They’re all over the place. We had no idea, of course.”
Jessie looked at Kinto, concerned. He returned her look of apprehension as they entered the pressurized docking bay. Kinto kept his hand low at his waistband, near a concealed knife, something that had come in handy more than once in his colorful career.
“Climb aboard. It’s just here.” Troy ushered them down the ladder, into the cockpit and to the forward monitor. He tapped a couple pads. “And one of them was big, too. A regular monster.”
“Just what are you talking about?” Jessie said impatiently.
Troy grinned. “Sea monsters, of course. Titan sea monsters. Now, watch closely. At first they’re hard to see.”
The monitor was dark. Jessie could just make out some amorphous shapes, but nothing definitive. “There,” Troy said quietly. “Come, my babies. Come to papa.”
Jessie began to wonder just what looney bin this guy had escaped from. Kinto leaned toward the screen. He frowned. It was dark.
Troy touched Jessie’s shoulder. “Here they come. There. And there. Do you see?”
Suddenly, Jessie took in a quick breath. “Oh. Oh!”
“What? Where?” Kinto snarled. “I don’t—”
But he did, didn’t he? See something? There, in the murky methane depths? “Pink,” he mumbled.
The trio stood slack-jawed, marveling, twitching, staring at a blank screen.
(*)
Tanya liked what they’d done with the place. Someone had been decorating. The corridors had always seemed so sterile and claustrophobic. But now, with these delightful moving pictures, things were different. Little painted deer and rabbits and handprints graced the walls. Spirals and square-shouldered silhouettes danced along the hatch seal at its junction with the floor. They really did seem to dance. The effect was subtle, but the hands seemed to intertwine, and the feet shifted nearly imperceptibly from one pose to another. A figure playing a flute spread across the main doorway. Nearly 5 feet tall, it didn’t look painted; it looked like it had simply been there for a long time, faded into the metal itself. It was all so beautiful.
© Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2015
Michael CarrollOn the Shores of Titan's Farthest SeaScience and Fiction10.1007/978-3-319-17759-5_31
31. Lost in a Lost World
Michael Carroll1
(1)Littleton, CO, USA
Sanjay Rao appeared on Jeremy Belton’s screen once again. “Sanjay, this is getting to be a bad habit. Maybe you should just move in.”
“I hear Kasei is nice this time of year, but I’m having way too much fun right here at HQ. We got a message that I thought might interest you.”
“Something finally turn up?”
“Nothing to do with Sable. But didn’t you say your god-daughter was up at Mayda Station?”
Jeremy leaned forward. “Something like that. What do you hear?”
“I’ll let you have the full experience. Here it is—forwarding now.”
The screen shifted for a moment. The face of a man in low-level light swam before the imager. The transmission was rasterized, smeared, as if low resolution was even difficult for it to manage.
“…is Mayda Station, Ti…da Station, Titan. We have an emergency situ—”
/>
The screen froze. So did Jeremy. There was silence on the other end.
“You gotta be kidding me, Sanjay. Is that it?”
“Sorry, Jer. That’s all that came in, and that was to Ganymede. They think it’s a power failure with Mayda’s new reactor. Another station on Titan picked it up, and they’re going to see what they can do about it, but it’s all a little weird. My Ganymede contact tells me the engineers said a failure like this has been precluded by the hardware or some such thing. Anyway, he doesn’t think it can be a simple breakdown. If the reactor had to be shut down, there are plenty of backup systems in place. Normally.”
Jeremy slapped his hands together. “Sanjay. I think I know where Demian Sable is.”
(*)
Montenegro grinned at the submersible.“Fine little ship. Research vessel, you say?”
“Yes sir,” Troy said, slouching against the curved wall of the cabin. “Marine research, mostly.”
Montenegro didn’t impress Troy. As far as the scientist was concerned, the Admiral—if that’s what he really was—was just another vacuum-surfing thug out for his piece of the pie. But it was a pie Troy would gladly share in, even if he had to bite his tongue and show a little respect to get his.
Montenegro looked up at the low ceiling and turned slowly, taking in all the gadgets and blinking monitors. He pivoted smartly back to Troy. “Good, because I need you to do some more research for me. Get back there, back to Mayda, as quickly as you can. Keep an eye on things. With that little piece of engineering you brought us, we’ll have them where we need them in a few short days.”
“Hours, maybe.”
“Better, better. These scientists are clever, though. They’ll probably kluge something together and hold on longer. Here.” Montenegro slapped a radio into Troy’s hand. “I’m sure theirs won’t be working by now. At least not this far. Wait for me to call. We may need you there. Eyes and ears, Fels. Eyes and ears.”
“Sure, sure,” Troy said, fumbling with the buttons. He looked up. Montenegro was scowling. Troy cleared his throat and added cheerfully, “Yes, sir!”
© Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2015
Michael CarrollOn the Shores of Titan's Farthest SeaScience and Fiction10.1007/978-3-319-17759-5_32
32. Serpents’ Swim
Michael Carroll1
(1)Littleton, CO, USA
As soon as the lights had gone down, and the feeble glow of Titan’s murk was the only illumination in the station, it had become obvious—there was something out in the lake. Not just one something. Dozens. Heads bobbed atop long necks that stretched from the rolling waves, looking like a swaying crop of long grass in an orange field.
Tanya strained to peer over the heads of the crowd gathered at the port on the north side with the best view of Kraken Mare. It reminded her of an American celebration of the Fourth of July—crowds staring in one direction, oo-ing and ah-ing as they marveled at wondrous sights.
“There! Look at that tall one.”
“Near the drill?”
“No, far right. See it?”
“Sort of…I think so.”
“Oh, now I see it.”
“Yes, I think I see it, too.”
It went on like that, over and over again, as one person would see something and point it out to the others, as if the crowd needed a suggestion before it could witness the scene. Tanya’s captivation was matched by her exhaustion. She hadn’t slept. Her head and neck hurt, and she had noticed other people rubbing their shoulders or the backs of their heads. Everyone must be under stress, she decided. She pulled herself from the window and turned into the cold hab. With no light and no heat, with the air hanging stale and sullen, the place seemed incredibly harsh. She knew how serious the situation was. When all the engineering, when all those subsystems and all that complex machinery was humming away as it should, Mayda Research Station seemed deceptively safe. But the walls that formed a barricade against the super-chilled, poisoned air, the warmly lit interior, the printed dividers and ambient music and aromas of food and electricity, all lay on the frozen world like a fragile egg. The toxic air just outside cocooned and ate away at the outpost. The pressure and dark and cold clawed at it relentlessly. Titan stood ready and waiting to reassert itself and reclaim the lonely bastion of delicate Earth life.
Maybe Brian and his techies could fix the problem, whatever it was. They would know soon. Maybe she should try to help. She rubbed her eyes and went in search of coffee or tea or anything to give her the edge she had lost.
(*)
Abby crept down the corridor. The sounds became clearer as the darkness faded. She could see the light coming from the window down at the junction of habitats, and a crowd of five people crammed around it, pointing and shuffling. Just before them, in a small recess in an access port, she peaked through another tiny opening. This port was only a few inches across, just enough to look through. No one had thought to use it, so she had it to herself. Outside, looming out of the lake’s mist, the great drill stood abandoned. Its lumbering assemblage had ground to a halt. Now, it rose like an ancient tower from a lost civilization. Perhaps that’s what it was, what it would be, if they didn’t get help soon. A remnant from a past civilization’s dreams and engineering accomplishments, a modern Tower of Babel left to disintegrate in the relentless elements of nature.
“Look at those, over there. A whole bunch of small ones, like a flock of geese!” said a voice.
“Titan’s Loch Ness,” offered another voice.
“Yes, beautiful!”
Abby knew she was looking directly at the portion of the lake they could see, at the same shore, the same waves, the same drill and landscape and seascape. And she knew, without a doubt, that she could see nothing in the lake but empty waves.
(*)
The coffee center in the main hab junction was dead. Maybe there was something in the galley. Even cold coffee would be okay at this point. As Tanya passed another window, she resisted the urge to look out again on the surreal lake scene that she knew would greet her. Night was falling, and soon she would no longer be haunted by the maniacally psychotic scene that was playing out in the Titan wilderness. Or was the psychosis on this side of the window?
There were so many reasons that those things, those rosy Nessie curiosities, shouldn’t be there, and she knew it. Titan was a lousy place for life. She tried to talk herself out of what her own eyes had seen, ticking off the list, item by item. Although the atmosphere of early Earth was similar in composition to the current atmosphere on Titan, the important exception was the lack of liquid or vapor water. Liquid water was a critical solvent for the kinds of materials that living systems used to carry out operations. Water was a chemical unifier, a bridge, the oil of many biochemical mechanisms. Methane did not break down nearly as many complex chemicals. But on the other hand…
Those hydrocarbons that sifted from Titan’s sky tended to assemble into delightfully complex structures akin to amino acids, and even constructs resembling DNA. Her colleagues who did laboratory research back on Earth and Mars had carried out experiments mimicking Titan’s chemistry—a brew without liquid water—and found within their products the five nucleotide bases involved in DNA and RNA replication, along with amino acids. But Tanya shook her head. Because on the other hand…
The amount of energy available to carry out those fabrications was so limited in the low light levels and low temperatures of Titan. Cryogenic biology, at least any kind that biologists could recognize as life, didn’t make much sense chemically. All living things on Earth, and apparently the fossilized life on Mars, used liquid water as a solvent. Liquid water was a stronger solvent than anything in Titan’s lakes. And that ice world seemed to be cut off from its own core, where useful things such as iron, molybdenum, and magnesium were sequestered away from the living systems that could use them. But…
Was it conceivable that life on Titan might use a liquid hydrocarbon, something like methane or ethane, in plac
e of water? Perhaps such creatures would take in hydrogen rather than oxygen, react it with acetylene instead of glucose, and produce methane instead of carbon dioxide. How many other choices could nature come up with that biochemists had not yet envisioned?
And there was, of course, yet another possibility: the drill. The beasts had not shown up until after the drill had broken through to the ocean below. The ocean was distant, 50 km straight down even here. That ocean might have its own power source, its own radiogenically or tidally triggered heat to birth benthic life. But how would that life survive in the relative low pressures up at the surface? How could it have made it up? The drill had many systems to keep it secure. Had there been some catastrophic failure to let the creatures up? And what were they doing down there anyway? What was their source of power and nourishment? It was all too much to think about, especially without coffee.
The throbbing in her head worsened as she approached the darkened galley. Before she turned the last corner, she sensed something—or someone—in the hallway in front of her. She heard a note, soft and lilting. Then another. A flute, breathy and clear.
Amorphous light from somewhere in the galley seemed to flare slowly, and she could make out the silhouette of a figure leaning against the wall, a young man. There was something about the jawline, and the lay of the hair across the forehead, and the relaxed posture. It looked like someone she knew, someone who couldn’t be there. He was playing one of those hand-carved wooden flutes. She stopped in her tracks. The man turned toward her and slowly pulled the instrument from his mouth. It was Kevin. He wore cotton pants and no shirt.
“Hey Tanya,” he said easily.
“Hi Kev,” she replied. “I thought that was you.” Suddenly, it felt perfectly natural, standing in the dimly lit corridor, talking to Kevin Nordsmitt.
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