by Jason Kent
The USS Cheyenne was the only long range ship in Earth Space which had not suffered some damage during the alien attack. The Moon and the VAS at L5 had been on the sun-side of Earth when the attack had occurred. Either the aliens knew the station was there and ignored it or they simply felt they had made their point and left after striking a slew of assets from low earth orbit out to geosynchronous. Yates was glad they missed the beautiful vessel.
Snaking cables and inflatable tunnels connected the Cheyenne to the electrical grid and mechanical systems of the VAS. The ship was running off ‘ground power’ for now but Yates had been assured it would be ready to switch over to internal power within five days…just as soon as they worked out a few bugs in the anti-matter power control software. He pushed the thought of finicky software and out of control anti-matter reactors to the back of his mind. He had to trust the tech crews on the VAS and support teams helping from Earth-side knew what they were doing.
As Yates watched, one of the containers which had been loaded up for Cheyenne’s inaugural run to Mars, drifted free of the spacecraft’s cargo section. The supplies would not be needed out in Saturn Space plus removing the additional mass made Cheyenne all the faster. Shipping containers were not the only cargo Cheyenne was designed for. Its habitation areas were large enough for up to thirty passengers, but they were not all outfitted yet. The first run was supposed to be cargo only. No one wanted to tempt a ‘Titanic’ scenario, even with all the aerospace engineers at Northern and Combs, the prime contractor building Cheyenne, betting their careers on the function and safety of the ship.
One Northern engineer had assured Yates there was absolutely no chance something could go wrong with the drive. As an example, they cited the perfect function of Explorer’s engines during the burn out to Alpha-Centari. Explorer had been doomed. But, the engineer was right; Explorer’s powerful engines had worked fine. The updates to the design used on Cheyenne were supposed to make them even more efficient.
Just need to work out those bugs, Yates thought.
Staring at the slender ship, its hab modules, cargo containers, mass reaction tanks and engines gleaming in the unwavering light of the Sun, Yates thought any risk was worth taking to get to their destination.
With the Mars mission scrubbed, Cheyenne was now heading to a point just beyond the orbit of Saturn’s giant moon, Titan. The largest moon in the entire solar system, Titan was still somewhat of a mystery to mankind. One of the few moons with an atmosphere, it was just now being explored to a greater degree by robotic probes. Now it held a new secret.
The alien ship which had destroyed the Schriever was there. Damaged by the rail gun shots Yates’ crew had managed to get off, the ship had plunged earthward, where it had simply vanished. In the aftermath of the attack, it was a full 24 hours before anomalous readings in Saturn Space recorded from an orbiting planetary probe were analyzed. That tip-off had led to more intensive study by a variety of sensors. It was the team at Far Side on the Moon’s surface, who were the first to get a good image of the alien spacecraft.
Some blogger had tagged the ship simply as Six. The name had caught on in the media until it was impossible to talk of the alien ship without referring to it as such.
Yates looked beyond the Cheyenne out into the depths of the solar system.
“Just wait, Six. We’re coming.”
Orion-2 Orbital Transfer Vehicle
Earth Space
Ian Langdon looked around the Orion-2 Orbital Transfer Vehicle and sighed. He once again found himself on a long cruise with almost nothing to do. He stretched his legs as best he could and thought longingly back to the spacious accommodations he had enjoyed, however briefly, onboard the space elevator car. A quick glance around the capsule brought a smile to his face though.
At least the best part of that trip is still with me, Ian thought.
Jennifer had dozed off in her seat across the cabin. Her head tilted to the side, smashing her face up against her shoulder harness. A bit of drool drifted from the corner of her mouth – one of the dangers of sleeping with your mouth open in zero-gee.
Ian wanted nothing more than to float over and stroke her long black hair. Floating free for the moment from her usual pony tail, Jennifer’s long hair framed her face like a beautiful portrait. He imagined she would wake up and flutter her green eyes and say something witty. The hulk of another passenger moved clumsily between Ian and his daydreams. George Nubittem was a large man and occupied much of the open space in the Orion capsule when not in his seat. Although massive, Ian was glad to find the man was at least somewhat fit. On first sight, Ian was sure the man would suffer from zero-gee complications and require CPR at some point during their three day trip out to the Earth-Moon L5 point.
George squeezed into the seat next to Ian and strapped himself in with much effort and grunting. “They sure didn’t design this thing with guys like me in mind,” he said, nudging Ian painfully in the ribs. “Makes me wonder if those NASA types just hire short, skinny people to be astronauts.”
“Well, they…” Ian said, preparing to share what he knew of the NASA astronaut selection process.
“As I remember it, these things,” George interrupted and gestured around the capsule, “were supposed to be the future of space travel. You know, until those guys in Dubai financed that space elevator and blew just about everybody else out of the space business. Man, I wish I could have invested in that deal. Sure grounded NASA’s plans didn’t it?” He laughed at his own joke. “Nearly killed NASA, too!”
And George was off.
From experience, Ian knew the speech would start with a long-winded discussion on the inadequacies of government bureaucracies in dealing with change. The one-sided conversation would then move on to a long list of grievances, beginning with the current US administration and moving back through at least the last two presidents and their cabinets. No one was safe; Mr. Nubittem had a problem with just about everyone, whether they were a congressman, senator, special interest, Supreme Court justice, or local mayor. A few of the other passengers enjoyed the discussions. Ian noted those individuals were currently taking their turn in the sleep cubes in the attached inflatable hab module.
Ian remained silent as the conversation carried on a life of its own. The best way to get the man to shut up was to simply let him run his course. Without anyone to argue with, George would eventually grump about the lack of intellectual challenge during the trip and pull out a battered copy of a novel with no cover. Ian had yet to figure out the title and certainly was not about to ask.
While George continued to ramble, Ian let his gaze slide over the interior of the capsule. The transfer vehicle, really only a slightly modified Orion capsule designed and built for NASA’s deep space program, was just over four meters across its circular inside diameter. This, Ian had decided as he strapped in for launch from the Kennedy Space Center, was not nearly big enough for the seven people crammed inside. The hab module offered additional space for three sleeping modules, a toilet, and the food lockers, but if you were not sleeping or taking care of business, there was nothing to do but sit in one of the capsule seats. The exercise equipment had even been removed in favor of additional cargo one team member or another had insisted could not be left behind.
Ian required very little of the storage space. He had only his duffle with a few uniforms and a few personal items. Anything else he would have wanted to bring had been destroyed along with the space elevator. He had not had any time to do any real shopping before the launch. Just about everything, including the bag itself had come from the Base Exchange or Military Clothing at Patrick Space Corps Station where he had been delivered after his spectacular landing in Brazil.
Ian noticed the capsule had gone silent. He gave a sidelong glance at his neighbor.
George’s nose was buried in his coverless book. Ian wondered if he had offended the man by not paying close attention to his diatribe. He should probably be more considerate. After all, these were t
he same people he would be spending the next nine months or so with. George, a master engineer of some sort was probably someone he could learn a lot from. It was not just Nubittem, everyone on board was someone Ian could stand to learn a little bit from and each person had a special skill to contribute to the upcoming mission.
This included Jennifer.
Ian thought about his own role. He was merely one of the crew members who would get the specialists across the solar system to their rendezvous with the alien spacecraft everyone was calling Six. Ian wondered if the U.S. Department of Defense would have preferred to keep the existence of Six under wraps. The fact a European probe orbiting Saturn had detected Six and a team of university undergraduates in Paris was running the data analysis virtually guaranteed the find could not be hidden. The news was all over the internet before anyone in authority knew what was going on.
With all the publicity Six was attracting, the retrieval mission had been announced as a sort of reassurance the U.S. government was still able to carry out space missions despite the devastating attack just days ago. Only the commander’s name, Colonel Robert Yates, had been released. Yates, the commander of the ill-fated USS Schriever had been trumpeted as the Hero of Earth Space and Ian was looking forward to finally meeting him in person. Ian wondered how long it would take for the world to get hold of every name and detail of the Cheyenne crew.
The names of the rest of the retrieval crew had not been immediately given out because NASA and the Space Corps had not figured out who they all were. A hasty search had turned up the six passengers onboard Ian’s transport. Only one was a NASA astronaut, a civilian pilot named Nick O’Brian. He was assigned the task of making sure the Orion got to the L5 station. With the press for qualified personnel after the destruction in orbit, Ian highly suspected the Orion pilot would also be co-opted along with the rest of the passengers to join the Cheyenne crew.
Exact details of the Cheyenne mission had also not been released. Again, mainly because there was very little detail beyond ‘go to Saturn, get Six, come home.’ He and the specialists aboard the Orion were to report to the VAS, get on board the Cheyenne, and get moving. They would make up the rest during the outbound trip.
Having had first-hand experience with the aliens, Ian had one question after his pre-mission briefing, ‘So what are we supposed to do if they shoot at us?’
Ian had pulled everything he could about the Cheyenne from the net as soon as he found out he would be going to Saturn. The spacecraft was designed to be a fast transport between Mars and Earth. It had no weapons and no armor beyond that deemed necessary for micro-meteorite protection. He had also brought this up during his briefing and had been told Six was believed to be permanently disabled and the crew most likely dead. ‘Believed’…’most likely’…none of these phrases particularly comforted Ian.
Right, Ian thought, if they were so helpless, then how did they manage to jump all the way out there after one of our ships scored a direct hit? Ian had absolutely no desire to be within firing range of Six if the Intel weenies were wrong. If whatever Six had for crew had been able to make repairs, he hoped they would do it long before Cheyenne arrived.
Next to its speed, the cargo capacity of Cheyenne was a bonus for this mission.
After performing a direct Saturn burn thanks to its new engine, Cheyenne would rendezvous with Six. If the alien ship was indeed adrift and helpless, the team would perform a quick assessment to determine if the ship was stable enough to transport. This is where the specialists on this flight would come in.
Ian had only glanced at their bios, figuring there would be plenty of time on the outbound flight to get to know them. Each one brought expertise in biology, engineering, materials (George’s specialty), weapons, navigation (Jennifer’s thesis turned out to be a dissertation on the use of pulsars for interplanetary navigation computations), or diplomacy. Ian figured they were beyond needing the last item on the list, but someone higher up obviously felt differently. He just hoped they each team member would have the required skills and nerve to make the right call if and when the time came.
At least an experienced officer would be leading the mission. Ian had talked to Yates a few times since it was the Schriever he had been heading to before the attack. He also knew Steve Pearl had been on board Schriever. Ian hoped the power and engine specialist was going to Saturn with them. From what his instructors at Peterson had told him, Pearl seemed like the type of guy you wanted by your side when you really needed to know how things worked and how to fix them.
The gathering of talent was mind-boggling. Ian’s thoughts circled around to an issue he had been wondering a lot about lately. Why had a precious seat been given to him on this mission? Here he was, a LT fresh out of pilot school, who on the way to his first assignment, had been forced to eject and parachute back to Earth. Granted, he had made a call which, after the fact, indeed seemed nothing short of heroic. Were the people sending him on the mission expecting him to make similar sorts of judgment calls and follow through? Or was he just a lucky rabbit’s foot – a good luck charm along for the ride?
Heck, maybe he was. From what Ian had just been through and the complete mystery of what was to come, perhaps a little luck was just what the Cheyenne mission needed.
Just as Ian decided it was about time to break out his earphones and dive into a movie he had downloaded onto his new data pad, movement from Jennifer’s end of the capsule caught his eye. He leaned forward watched as Jennifer stretched.
Jennifer blinked a few times and leaned her head from side to side, trying to work out a kink. She noticed the string of saliva dangling from her chin and wiped it away, making a disgusted face as she did so. Jennifer paused in the middle of cleaning off her hand on the empty seat next to her when she noticed Ian staring at her.
Ian gave a small wave.
Jennifer stuck her tongue out at him.
Ian smiled. The Cheyenne mission was going to be great.
Ganymede Research Station #1
Jupiter Space
Wu opened his eyes and looked over at his friend. If he looked as bad as Deng, he did not want to know it. Both had been getting sick from the radiation they were absorbing while in the lightly shielded hopper.
Deng had earlier suggested the long range shuttle might be a better refuge than the hopper. When Wu pointed out there was only one pressure suit to make the trip, Deng insisted on staying with Wu. They had made the concession that someone needed to check out the base though to see if there were any other survivors. It would also be helpful if they could get into any remaining module that might still maintain its atmospheric integrity.
While Deng knew the interior corridors well, it was Wu who was really familiar with the structures around the outside of the base thanks to his time controlling remotes from the operations center. Wu accepted Deng’s suit and, with a promise to return within an hour, left through the airlock at the end of the corridor next to the hopper. Wu noted the batteries powering the airlock were down to twenty percent. He hoped it was enough to get him back in.
Wu headed off over the scarred landing field toward the crater where the main part of the station had been buried. He approached the edge carefully and looked down. The only thing left were a few twisted beams and outer hull sections from the modules which had been joined together to form the station. The crater was at least two hundred meters wide, enough to swallow the core of the station whole.
His heart sank. “There are no habitation modules intact,” Wu reported to Deng.
“Check the shuttle,” Deng replied over the radio. “There should be another suit. Be sure to grab any spare recirculation packs while you’re at it.”
Wu circled the crater, looking for anything which might prove helpful. The access tunnels snaking out over the landing pad were the only structures left standing. Even the shed built to shelter a few pieces of robotic construction equipment had been targeted and destroyed.
The station had one long range, pre
ssurized ground transport vehicle, but it had been knocked over during the attack. Wu hurried over to the vehicle. Even on its side, it would offer more protection than the hopper. He slowed down when he got closer. The side was cracked open. Wu bent to look inside through the thick front windshield. The sight of the frozen hand clawing at the glass was enough for him.
Wu hurried on to the shuttle only to find the same horrible story. Coming around to the entry hatch on the far side, he discovered the engine and mount had been sheared from the main body of the craft. “Well, that explains why they didn’t bother destroying it,” Wu muttered. Still hoping for something to salvage, he mounted the ladder and made his way inside.
The batteries were charged enough to allow him to cycle through the airlock. Wu was dismayed to find there was no need for the lock cycle. The interior of the shuttle was in hard vacuum. He reported the news to Deng.
While Deng continued cursing for five minutes, Wu quickly searched the shuttle. He found two suits. The first was unfortunately being worn by a corpse. The second was stowed with a helmet in the equipment locker behind the co-pilot seat.
“I found the pilot,” Wu said, interrupting Deng. He avoided looking into the dead man’s blackened face as he reached for the man’s rebreather. “Nametag reads Ling. I don’t know him.”
Deng was silent for a moment. When he spoke his voice sounded thick. “That guy owes me money.”
“I’m coming back,” Wu said.
As he was about to leave the shuttle, an idea occurred to Wu. He went back to the flight deck and leaned over Ling’s body. Wu located the long range transmitter and tried the power switch. The hopper had a radio only powerful enough to work through the repeater stations dropped across Ganymede’s surface. It worked like a charm unless the main transmitter, at the Station, got blasted to bits.
Wu waited a second. Sighing, he turned to go.
The light on the console slowly lit up.
