by Jason Kent
Red lights lit suddenly, accompanied by a piercing alarm.
Wu looked up, afraid his surreptitious actions had been discovered.
Lee was still tapping on his keyboard as if nothing was wrong. Wu studied a monitor mounted above his station forgetting the anomalies for a moment. It showed the status of the base’s various systems; air quality, power usage, pressure, temperature - everything seemed within limits. Tapping the screen, Wu called up more data on each of the primary base sections.
“Sir, this must be a false alarm, all systems are reading nominal,” Wu reported.
“I have armed the station’s defensive systems,” Lee noted calmly, still tapping on his keyboard. “I am sending a Priority Message to Earth, alerting them of our situation.”
Wu stopped his check of the station’s systems. The fool had sounded the alarm. He brought up a sub-window to display the feed from a camera mounted on a habitat module on the southwest side of the base. At first, all that was visible were two non-descript cargo containers, marked with the ever-present ‘COSCO’ markings. The China Overseas Shipping Company had made its way into space and saw no need to change its highly recognizable logo or name.
As Wu watched, the top of the containers split in two. The halves popped up in the light gravity, and folded sideways. As the top sections came to rest along the sides of the container, the contents of the module rose, revealed for the first time. Wu had never been inside the containers. Access to the weapons they contained was tightly controlled by Lee and the small contingent of People’s Liberation Army Strategic Weapons Specialists. Never-the-less, he was familiar enough with the tools of the PLA to recognize the mass accelerators, or rail guns, as Americans and Europeans called them. Capable of slinging solid chunks of metal at deadly speeds, the rail guns could easily tear through any opponent.
“Respectfully sir, how can you be sure we are under attack?” The sound of the compartment hatch opening drew Wu’s attention from the monitors, now showing the launchers pivoting and elevating away from their stowed position. .
Lee ignored Wu’s question and remained silent as Major Sheng Jing-Wei entered through the main hatch, followed by two PLA soldiers.
“Please relinquish your station and vacate the control center, Mr. Wu,” Lee said.
It took a few moments for Wu to grasp the order. Wu looked from Lee to Sheng. By the hard look in both men’s eyes, he knew there would be no arguing the directive.
Major Sheng was an enigma among the station personnel. He kept solely with the other PLA soldiers and, on the rare occasion Wu had witnessed an encounter with regular base personnel, Sheng often knew more of the topic of discussion than the poor technician he was grilling. The joke was the lead PLA officer read tech orders describing the operations and maintenance of each piece of equipment assigned to the Research Station instead of the readily available, if less tasteful, reading material favored by other crew members alone and far from home.
“Is there a problem, Mr. Wu?” Lee asked.
Wu turned to face his screens one last time. The unidentified vessels would be passing close to their location on Ganymede within minutes. He stood on wobbly legs and reached for the papers on his desk.
Major Sheng stepped close to Wu’s station and put a hand over the documents and binders cluttering Wu’s workstation. “We will attend to these, Mr. Wu.”
Wu could not meet the Major’s stare. He gave a quick nod, stood, and made his way to the compartment hatch. He had to squeeze past the PLA soldiers who had taken up position next to Lee’s station. The men were armed with assault rifles, weapons Wu had not seen outside of the armory in all his time on the Jovian moon, in addition to their usual side-arms. One of them held the hatch open for Wu. As soon Wu was outside, the soldier pulled the door shut.
Wu started down the connecting tunnel toward the common area. His steps were wooden, making his stride even more awkward under the influence of the moon’s reduced gravity.
Wu was sure Lee and Sheng intended to destroy the mysterious objects before they even knew where they came from or discerned their intent. He looked down at his hand and opened it slowly, revealing a sweating palm cradling the small black memory stick he had managed to snatch before Sheng took over his station. Wu was brought up short by a call from the command section hatch.
“Mr. Wu,” Lee called.
Wu turned; his hands tightening around the data stick tucked at the small of his back. “Sir?” Wu asked, managing to keep his voice steady.
“Please ensure we are not disturbed.”
Wu simply lowered his eyes and nodded, not trusting himself to speak. When he looked up, Lee was already closing the hatch. The locking bolts slid into place with a ring of finality.
Wu tucked the data stick into a deep hip pocket and patted it through the cloth of his jumpsuit. He knew Lee would have all data secured and classified before he got back to his station. He doubted Lee was smart enough to wipe computer memories, but he had no doubt this was a task Major Sheng was capable of carrying out.
Wu picked up his pace with new purpose. No matter what happened in the next few minutes, the stolen data had to survive.
Ballard Space Elevator
Earth Space
Ian was pleased to find he and Jennifer hit it off so well. She was indeed a member of the Far Side Lunar Observatory team and was returning after a visit with her family living in Colorado. Although not an astronomer, she was using her degree in applied physics working on applications for quantum interaction phenomenon. Her small group needed the near vacuum environment, lower gravity and isolation from the electromagnetic chaos pouring from earth and near Earth orbit for their experiments. Ian had only an inkling of what she was talking about but he liked the intensity of her passion and the way her eyes sparkled when she was making a point.
Jennifer was trying to explain the basics of quantum interaction to Ian; how it was theoretically possible to sync up two particles and move one away from the other, to an infinite distance. Even with the entirety of the universe between the two particles, any change in state in one was instantaneously reflected by the second particle. Her eyes were wide and brilliant as she finished, “Now tell me that can’t be used for communications!?”
Ian was nodding, too enamored by the light reflected in her green eyes to respond. He opened his mouth to say something stupid when she suddenly looked over his shoulder, her attention caught by something on the screens behind Ian.
“Oh, Explorer is streaming again,” she said, edging closer to one of the monitors.
“Another four-year-old message,” Ian noted dryly, turning reluctantly to see what all the excitement was supposed to be about. He wished he could delete his off-hand remark when he saw Jennifer raising an eyebrow at him.
“It’s the best you can expect considering their transmissions are complying with basic laws of physics,” Jennifer said in her best teaching assistant voice.
“If only they had your quantum communications,” Ian said, glad he at least had caught the gist of her earlier dissertation.
“Darn right,” Jennifer said. “Just give me a few more years to work out the kinks.” Her eyes were sparkling again.
Ian grinned and bowed. “I defer to the lady with the physics degree.”
“As well you should,” Jennifer stated.
The moment smoothed over, Ian used the crowd of passengers pressing close around the monitors as an excuse to brush up against Jennifer.
Not taking her eyes from the screen, Jennifer playfully pushed back. “Try and focus,” she said, smiling, “you might learn something.”
USS Schriever, Century-Class Orbital Patrol Craft
Geosynchronous Orbit
Lieutenant Colonel Robert Yates, United States Space Corps, watched the Explorer feed on the main screen of what passed for a bridge on his ship. The tiny compartment was practically bursting at the seams with the five crew stations and associated equipment.
“Looks like they finally
made it,” Steve Pearl said, not looking up from the monitor he was studying at the engineering station. Pearl, a civilian specialist in nuclear technologies, kept the Schriever’s power and drive systems in tune. At forty-five, he was the oldest member of the crew. He also liked to point out he was the heaviest, filling his oversized flight suit easily. But, as he reminded Yates, he was paid to keep the engines running, not stay in shape like his military compatriots.
“I’m sure they appreciate your concern, Steve,” Yates said.
Pearl looked up at the monitor. “Look, I’m happy for them,” he said in a tone which indicated he was anything but.
“Humans sailing into the harbor of another star system not enough to stir your blood?” Yates asked.
“I’ll start jumping up and down if they find anything really interesting,” Pearl said. “So far, they’re news because their computer managed to navigate across interstellar space and then wake up the crew after eight years. All they’ve got under their belts is a really, really long nap.”
“The reporters seem happy,” Yates said.
“Of course they are,” Pearl said, waving at the monitor. “They finally get someone real to put on the air.”
“Steve, please tell me you’re not jealous of them,” Yates said. He and the rest of Schriever’s crew had been treated to Pearl’s long stories of the adventures he had gone through to get the Explorer’s anti-matter engines constructed, installed, and on-line. Pearl’s heroic role on the project as a mid-level engineer grew with each retelling.
“Maybe,” Pearl said, concentrating on his displays, pointedly ignoring the main monitor showing the Explorer crew. “So, that was R-3 you wanted to take off-line, right?” R-3 was one of three nuclear power plants housed at the aft end of their spacecraft. Schriever only needed one to function properly. The other two acted as redundant power sources for the drive system and the weapons array on board the orbital patrol craft.
“Steve,” Yates said, ignoring the man’s attempt to change the topic, “If it helps, I still think the Explorer’s engines are the star of the show.”
“Just wait till they want to come home,” Pearl said, giving the commander a sideways glance. “We’ll see how much news the engines get then.”
“Good point,” Yates said, his face splitting into a grin.
Pearl looked from side to side and leaned back in his seat so he was closer to Yates. He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I wish I could see the looks on their faces when they jettison the first set of propellant tanks find my name spray painted across the hull.”
“You serious?” Lieutenant Chris Reeves looked up from the Navigation station.
“No joke.” Pearl said solemnly.
“Why would you…” Reeves began, aghast at the thought. “What were you thinking?”
“Let’s just say I was younger, much younger, and, well, stupid,” Pearl said with a laugh.
Yates could not help grinning at the thought of Steve Pearl out in a spacesuit jammed between the propellant tanks and the hull of humankind’s first interstellar ship painting his name like a he was tagging a road sign back on Earth.
The speech by Paul Detrick, the Explorer Mission commander, was interrupted by someone off-screen.
“What’s he saying?” Yates asked.
Reeves and Pearl stopped their discussion of what kind of paint was best to use on the hull of a ship and focused on the main view screen.
“The Explorer guys are excited about something,” Reeves said.
“Turn it up,” Pearl said, his interest peaked.
Reeves complied and the voices of the Explorer crew, four years old by the time the signal traveled from Alpha Centari to Earth, filled the bridge.
Transmission:
UNS Explorer, Millennium-Class Interstellar Craft
Alpha-Centari Local Space
“What is it?” Paul Detrick asked a crew member off-screen. The handsome fifty-three year old had one of the most recognizable faces in Germany, his home, or on the entire planet for that matter. As Explorer’s Mission Commander, he had done countless interviews before human-kind’s first interstellar spacecraft had left Earth orbit twelve years earlier. The best of these recordings had been edited and shown again and again over the years as the craft hurtled through space, its crew safely in hibernation.
There had not been much beyond what Explorer’s automated telemetry sent back during eight years travel time to report as the communications delay mounted to four years between transmission and receipt of the signal. The indications were mind-numbingly consistent; all systems green, crew in stable hibernation, engines working perfectly. Rehashing old question and answer sessions was the only thing the ESA and NASA could do to try and maintain interest in the project. So, Detrick was known for some classic sound bites dealing with humanities expansion into the universe and the wonders of modern technology which made it all possible. Detrick’s Hollywood good looks and piercing eyes which both held the audience in their grasp and conveyed an unmatched intensity did not hurt either. Paul was moments away from delivering his best quote ever.
“I…I’m not sure,” the voice was from off-screen, the camera still focused on Detrick. The scrolling bar along the bottom of the screen helpfully identified the speaker as Patricia Teft, the crew’s specialist in extra-planetary geology. The trailer added her goal during the mission was to collect samples from asteroids in the Alpha-Centari system. Teft hoped to find evidence of her thesis that all star systems had to contain rings of asteroids as a course of the stellar evolution processes.
Detrick stood, staring at the screen displaying the object approaching his ship. Whether he meant to or not, he struck a dramatic pose; chin inclined slightly, eyes looking thoughtful, and body leaning forward ever so slightly, as if ready to spring into action.
Embedded video feeds within the main transmission allowed Earthbound producers to select additional content for the multi-media feed pouring out to the world. A screen-within-a-screen opened, allowing viewers to see from Detrick’s point of view. The object was distant, its shape from this angle oblong with a sweeping section aft.
Yet another sub-screen opened, this time showing an external view of Explorer, taken from a drone flying in formation with the mother ship. The human spacecraft was a heavily modified Millennium interplanetary transport. Officially designated as MIII-AMDI, Millennium III Class – Anti-Matter Drive Interstellar, it was basically a two hundred and twenty meter central spine with crew modules forward, storage containers mid-ship, massive mass reaction tanks further back, and six AM drives at the stern. The angle tilted slightly, showing both the human craft, glinting in the light from the local suns, and the mysterious object along its flight path. Unlike Explorer, the new visitor did not glint so much as soak in the light. The drone camera zoomed in, revealing a dark, mottled grey hull. The alien craft possessed a symmetrical structure and flaring tail struts stretching out behind the oblong main body. Overlays on the display estimated the width of the ship to be thirty-three meters with a length of approximately one hundred ten meters.
“Of course our main engines were burning during our approach to Alpha Centari,” Detrick lectured to the camera and the crowds he knew would be watching. “Mid-way through our trip from Earth, we achieved maximum acceleration and the engines shut down. We cruised at the fastest velocity yet achieved by any manned spaceflight for just over two months. As programmed, our central control computer, Mandi, flipped the ship completely around until our bow faced home again and our engines toward our destination. Calculating the optimum time to ignite the engines to slow us down again, Mandi began our long breaking burn.”
“Yes,” Jasem Reed, the crew physician agreed. “They would have seen us as a bright star approaching this system, there’s no way they could have missed us!”
“Exactly!” Detrick agreed. He tilted his head characteristically and paused, gathering himself to deliver the lines he had been waiting his entire life to say. “This is no cha
nce encounter. This intelligence has been watching our approach and are no doubt here to offer peaceful greetings from one space farer to another.” Detrick made one of his dramatic pauses, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He continued in his slightly accented English and finally got to the highlight of his speech to his crew and the billions back on the home world. “Humanity’s inaugural voyage outside our solar system is being met by this, an ambassador from another species. May we be worthy of this honor…”
Detrick’s words were interrupted by multiple alarms sounding throughout his control deck.
USS Schriever, Century-Class Orbital Patrol Craft
Geosynchronous Orbit
Yates was as enthralled as his younger crew members. Detrick definitely had a way of holding an audience and, face it, he had some great material to work with. The spell was broken by the on-screen alarms. Yates had been in space long enough to understand no alarm was minor. Unconsciously, he scanned his vessel’s status board.
The command board at Yates’ station showed a pictorial layout of the Schriever. Tapping on any section of the display allowed him to dive into as much detail as he could handle from the integrated control and status computer. The system allowed the relatively small crew to command the complex piece of weaponry which was the USS Schriever.
The drive and power section at the aft end of the ship showed green except for the reactor Pearl had just taken off-line – it was color coded with yellow and green diagonal strips indicating it was down for maintenance with no longterm issues. If there were problems, it would have shown up as red. Propellant and water tanks, also in the aft section, showed adequate reserves.
Mid-section, Yates noted the missile bays were fully loaded. There had been no change in any launch systems since their checkout just two days ago. The storage areas and main airlock fore of the missile bays were also green on the status boards.
