"You still aren't convinced?” Jefferson lifted his eyebrows. “What about the Martian data disk?"
Myra took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “The data disk is exciting, but all it proves is that the ring keepers exist. Nothing that we've been able to pull off the disk says that they're from Saturn."
Jefferson nodded, understanding. “You and your team have done an excellent job.” With that, he turned and stepped back to his console.
Myra hit the record button on her console. “Thank you, Stir.” She sent the email on its long flight back to Earth.
* * * *
The following morning, Pilot and the repair team boarded the tow shuttle. After receiving clearance, Pilot carefully lifted the shuttle from the bay and took it out ahead of the Aristarchus, then doubled back behind the ship. As Vanda had done when she went to evaluate the damage, Pilot took the shuttle to the correct distance out from the hub, then waited for the damaged sail to approach. As it did, he fired the thrusters, causing the shuttle to spin with the sail. It took Pilot some practice to get the hang of the maneuver. He tended to overcorrect and undercorrect a bit, causing the shuttle to wobble with respect to the sail. However, after about fifteen minutes, he got the hang of it and the shuttle and the sail seemed to rotate together.
"Time to get to work,” said Daryl. He and the rest of the team put on their helmets and checked their suits. He gave the thumbs up and Pilot began the slow process of closing off the air tanks and depressurizing the shuttle. When the inside of the shuttle reached vacuum, Daryl attached his safety line and opened the shuttle's door. He pushed himself out of the shuttle, toward the sail. Once there, he grabbed on, feeling the sail wobble as he did. Vanda Berko left the shuttle behind him and grabbed onto a handhold a few yards away. Each of them pulled out rotary tools and quickly drilled four holes on either side of the fracture.
After the holes were drilled, the two mechanics Chung and Rodriguez left the shuttle. They unfurled the patch of metalized fabric. At each end was a quinitite melding strap. Chung handed one strap to LaRue while Rodriguez passed his end to Berko. LaRue pushed four tiny bolts through the holes of the melding strap and Chung attached washers and nuts to the back. Vanda put up her side and swore when she realized that only two of the four holes lined up. She pushed two bolts through and Rodriguez secured them. Just then, they all felt a tugging on the safety lines.
Daryl looked around and saw Pilot was once again having trouble keeping control of the shuttle. “Hey, can you get that back under control?” he chided.
"I can't.” Pilot sounded distressed. “The ship's acting like it's starved for fuel, even though the gauge shows that we have an adequate supply. You all better get back aboard, we need to abort the mission."
"But we only have two bolts in place on the starboard strap,” protested Vanda.
"Abort, now!” ordered Pilot.
With that, the technicians pushed off the sail in unison and clambered back into the shuttle. As soon as the door was closed, Pilot rolled the shuttle and took it back toward the central hub without taking time to re-pressurize the cabin. As they approached the hub, the shuttle sputtered again.
"Something's seriously wrong,” said Pilot.
Vanda pointed out the window. “We're losing speed with respect to the Aristarchus."
"That's it folks, abandon ship,” called Pilot. He unbuckled his harness while Daryl once again opened the shuttle door. This time without attaching safety lines, the team of five took turns pushing off the shuttle and launching themselves toward the Aristarchus. Daryl caught on first, finding one of the external handholds. Vanda followed, grabbing Daryl's hand. Chung and Rodriguez followed in turn. Finally, Pilot pushed off. He missed Chung's proffered hand, and his hands scrabbled on the smooth, silver hull of the Aristarchus trying to find some kind of handhold as he continued to slide toward the front of the ship. At last, he managed to grab hold of one of the sail masts. From there, he was able to grab a handhold. He looked up and watched the tow shuttle drift away behind them. With a sigh, he climbed the handholds, following the others toward the airlock.
* * * *
Once inside the ship and out of their suits, Pilot sat in the locker room, in his underwear trembling.
"What happened out there?” asked Daryl, pulling on his coveralls.
Pilot shook his head. “The gauge showed fuel, but we weren't getting any thrust. It's as though the fuel had somehow been converted to some kind of inert matter."
"The Aristarchus uses the same kind of fuel. We'd better check the supply,” said Daryl, somberly.
Feeling numb, Pilot nodded. Daryl tapped Rodriguez on the shoulder and the two left to check the ship's fuel.
* * * *
Half an hour later, Pilot trudged into C-and-C, shoulders slumped, and fell into the chair at the pilot's console. When the shuttle had been lost, Jefferson called Freeman to control. She stepped over to Pilot, and knelt down next to him. “How bad is it?” she asked.
Pilot shook his head. “I don't understand how it happened. Somehow all the fuel aboard the ship and the shuttles is being neutralized. It's as though something is eating it up and converting it into something else."
Myra, sitting at the communications console, gasped. “Oh, my God,” she whispered.
Freeman, Pilot, and Jefferson all turned to look at her.
Myra turned away from their stares and brought up an image of the whale-like creatures from Jupiter. “These creatures need to eat,” she said, slowly. “I hypothesized that they ate microscopic creatures in the atmosphere, much like whales on Earth eat plankton.” She changed the display, so it showed a picture of something that looked like a grain of sand. “Lisa found these microscopic creatures from material inside the Zeus shuttle's ram scoop."
Jefferson took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “The atmosphere of Jupiter contains large amounts of methane and ammonia, chemicals not unlike the fuel this ship uses."
"So much so,” said Pilot, “that we could run the shuttle on Jupiter's atmospheric gasses."
"The creatures got into the shuttle's engine and found their way into the fuel tank.” Jefferson sat down at the command console.
"Then Vanda Berko and Kurata Nagamine attached the fuel line to the shuttle,” said Myra.
"Giving the creatures access to Aristarchus' fuel supply,” finished Pilot. He looked down to the deck. “Only thing is the system's designed to prevent this. There would have been positive pressure on the fuel line. Fuel isn't sucked in from the shuttle."
"Jupiter's atmosphere is a violent, turbulent place,” said Myra. “The creatures would be used to it."
"You mean they swam upstream?” asked Pilot in disbelief.
"Like salmon swimming back to their home stream to spawn.” Freeman stood and adjusted her coveralls. “What does this mean for the mission?"
"It means there's no chance of slowing down for a Saturnian orbit,” said Pilot, dejected. “The best we can do is slingshot around Saturn and head for home."
Jefferson's stomach lurched. All at once, the warning voices about a ship rushed into flight by an inexperienced team sounded in his thoughts. For the first time since the voyage began, he wanted to be back in his cubicle. He would see the ship safely home where he would be content to stay.
* * * *
The mood throughout the Aristarchus grew subdued as word spread among the crew that there was no hope of flying in Saturn's clouds or landing on Saturn's largest moon, Titan. Jefferson and Freeman worked to raise the crew's spirits, though. They assembled the crew in the galley, had Angus MacDonald and the volunteer cooks prepare a buffet of party foods, then showed the videos from the Mars and Jupiter expeditions.
Captain Jefferson, his medals pinned onto a clean set of coveralls and one of his Air Force service cravats around his neck, stood up in front of the crew once the movies were finished. “We have accomplished more in the last year and a half than any space mission in the history of humankind. We have no r
eason to feel we have failed or even fell short of our mission's objectives. There is even more to come. We will see Saturn and its moons up close and with our own eyes. No human in history has ever accomplished that. We will succeed in our mission. No matter what happens, you will be heroes when we get back to Earth ... and we will get back to Earth because I expect you all to give me the best you've got."
He sat down and Natalie Freeman, attired in her full-dress Navy whites—the sword belted around her waist—stood in front of the crew. Solemnly she removed her hat. “When I was growing up, three of my greatest heroes were Jim Lovell, Fred Haise, and Jack Swigert, the crew of Apollo 13. They were to be the third crew to land on the Moon. However, an accident aboard their ship prevented them from landing. It took everything they had to return safely to Earth. Those three men did not panic, they simply did their jobs and they did see the Moon, even if they couldn't land on it, and they did return to Earth safely. Thing is, their ship was in far worse shape than ours is. We're just out of gas and the nearest filling station is two billion miles away."
There was laughter at that from the audience. Pilot sat back in his chair and rubbed his chin. Freeman continued, “But, due to Thomas Alonzo's brilliant design and execution, this space vessel is in much better shape than the Apollo 13. We'll be able to sail home in comfort. We'll still be able to get better orbital measurements and photographs of Saturn and Titan than any other craft in history. We have already made history. Let's make some more."
A cheer rose from the crew. “Let's see the movies again,” came a cry from Angus MacDonald in the back of the room.
Jefferson and Freeman smiled at one another and started the show again. Freeman looked over at Pilot, but noticed he wasn't watching the movies. Instead, he seemed deep in thought. She shrugged it off.
After the movies were over, the crew stood and milled around, eating the food and talking excitedly. Neb O'Connell and Lisa Henry—each holding plates brimming with Freeman's chicken wings, Dr. Garcia's flautas, and Angus’ short bread—stepped up to Freeman and Jefferson.
"We've been talking it over,” said Lisa. “We'd still like to get married on the approach to Saturn."
"We just wanted to check whether that would cause any problems with the timing on the slingshot around the planet. We certainly don't want to prevent the ship from getting home,” said Neb.
Freeman waved Pilot over and explained the situation to him. Pilot thought for a moment. “No,” he said. “Shouldn't be a problem at all.” Pilot then led Captain Jefferson aside. “Captain, I wanted to take a moment and apologize for what I said at Jupiter. You're absolutely right. The safety of the ship comes before the mission."
Jefferson looked down at the ground, then back up at Pilot. He held out his hand. “I'm sorry I hit you. I realize now that you know this ship better than anyone aboard. I should have realized that you will do everything in your power to keep us safe.” Jefferson and Pilot shook hands. “If I'd still been in the service, they would have court-martialed me for striking a fellow officer,” said the captain, solemnly.
"Forget it. I was being cocky and deserved it.” Pilot rubbed his hand on his nose. “But next time, please just tell me."
* * * *
Two weeks later, Jefferson relieved Freeman in C-and-C. As she left, she was surprised to see Pilot loitering in the corridor. “Captain Freeman, I was wondering if we might have a word."
"Sure,” she said. “I was on my way to my quarters for the night, but we can talk for a bit. I'll make you a cup of coffee."
Pilot smiled. “Thanks, but I'll be calling it a night shortly.” He was silent for a moment as they stepped through the corridors. “I was thinking about what you said at the party the other day about the nearest filling station being two billion miles away. The thing is, there is another filling station and it's less than a billion miles away at this point."
They stepped inside Natalie's quarters. Pilot went over to the computer interface and brought up some schematics. “What are you talking about?” asked Natalie.
"Saturn's atmosphere is largely the same as Jupiter's. Instead of going into a slingshot orbit, we could turn the sails such that we go into a long elliptical orbit, actually taking the ship into Saturn's upper atmosphere. We could scoop up enough of the atmosphere to use as fuel for several orbits of Saturn followed by an easy return to Earth."
Natalie sat down on the opposite side of the table and studied Pilot's display. “It sounds awfully risky. If you miscalculate at all, we'll go right into the planet. Perhaps you should take this to Captain Jefferson, not to me."
Pilot took a deep breath as he set the keyboard aside. “Not only did I build this ship, I designed it. I know what she's capable of."
"I accept that.” Natalie pursed her lips. “Fact of the matter is this is still a risky proposition. Why take the risk when we can get home safely without doing it?"
Pilot stood up so fast, it caused Natalie to blink. “Captain Freeman, there's no need for pretense any more. You know who I am. You've been in my cabin. You've read the report I prepared for my father. You know all about the chronotons."
"How do you know that?” Natalie narrowed her eyes.
Pilot leaned over, hands on his hips, and looked into her eyes. “It took me years to build up my alias. I was successful because I learned to watch people. I learned to watch them when they were close to discovering the real me. You may be a good captain of an aircraft carrier and a good diplomat, but you're a lousy spy. Didn't you think I would have security cameras set up in my cabin?"
Natalie stood and went over to the coffee maker and scooped coffee into a filter. “I figured that was a possibility, just as I assumed you had communications bugged. Why haven't you confronted me before now?"
Pilot pushed his hands into the pockets of his coveralls. “I've been hiding behind Thomas Alonzo for years. I'm not used to confrontation and you haven't told anyone ... except Jefferson.” He chewed on his lower lip. “I've been thinking you may be someone I can trust."
"Even though I've been sneaking into your quarters?"
"How's that different from me sneaking around Quinn Corp as Alonzo?"
She started the coffee, then turned around. “All right, I know you want the chronotons, but Captain Jefferson isn't going to let you risk the ship to get them. Not now."
"I know.” Pilot sat down. “But you know how important the chronotons are. Not just for me, but for Earth's entire future. I want you to help me talk to the captain, to try to convince him that we should at least try the refueling maneuver. I've already ordered LaRue and Berko to begin dumping and sanitizing the fuel tanks. Adapting them further would be minimal effort."
"Cleaning the tanks is certainly a good idea,” said Natalie. “I will feel better knowing that the little organisms are off the ship. Who knows what other trouble they might cause."
"Exactly. Will you help me?"
The coffee finished. Natalie poured two cups and brought one to Pilot. She sat down and sipped hers. “The problem is even I think it's not worth the risk to go after the chronotons.” She looked down into her coffee, avoiding Pilot's gaze. “What I think we should do is get this ship safely to Earth. From there, we can put together a proposal for another mission to Titan. I'll even help you put it together. We can come back out."
"Do you really think the chronotons belong in the hands of the Federal Government?” He picked up his cup of coffee and took a sip in spite of his earlier objection.
"If they exist, they belong to the whole world.” Natalie slowly looked up into his eyes. “They don't belong to the United States and they certainly don't belong to Quinn Corp.” She set the cup down. “Whether you call yourself Thomas Alonzo or Thomas Quinn, you're one of the best scientists there is or ever will be. Surely a discovery of this magnitude should be used by all scientists and not just by you."
"But will they know what to do with it?” he asked, glumly.
"Who are you to judge?"
Pil
ot took another sip of the coffee, then put the cup on the table. “Perhaps you're right.” He stood and moved toward the door, then turned. “Captain Freeman, will you help me start the proposal on the trip back to Earth?"
"Sure thing, Mr. Quinn."
He smiled, then turned and left the cabin.
* * * *
The remaining months of the voyage to Saturn continued smoothly. The crew fell into a routine, much as they had during the year between Mars and Jupiter. Myra continued working on her translation program. Even though she was skeptical, she hoped they'd be able to find out who was communicating with the whales of Earth and the floating creatures of Jupiter as they sped past Saturn. She told Natalie about her work. “Excellent,” said the executive officer. “Pilot and I are going to propose a new mission to Saturn. If we find there's intelligent life out here, that will only improve our chances of getting a new NASA mission out this way."
* * * *
Lisa and Neb worked on their wedding arrangements. Lisa was not surprised when she talked to Vanda in the galley and found out that she didn't have any dresses aboard. “However, there's that metalized fabric we use to patch the sails,” she said. “We have a large supply. I'm sure there's enough extra for a dress."
"There's only one problem. I'm not a seamstress,” said Lisa.
"Neither am I,” admitted Vanda. “I've always been better with power tools than sewing machines."
Angus, leaning over the counter, interrupted. “Sorry to eavesdrop, but I not only cook, I'm pretty handy with a needle and thread."
"Can you sew up an entire dress?” asked Lisa.
"It won't be the most elegant wedding gown,” said the cook, “but it'll look lovely nevertheless. I promise."
Lisa held up her hands and tried to refuse. “I couldn't ask you...."
"It would be my pleasure,” said the cook.
* * * *
Meanwhile, Neb asked Pilot about the logistics of holding the wedding in the ship's hub. “We don't want to be in your way if you need to work up there during the wedding,” he explained.
The Solar Sea Page 18
