Aliens, thought Deacon. First, flipping contact and they can’t even be bothered to show up with their ship. He didn’t know how anyone could conclusively say that, but if BenDeCorp’s best experts said it, it was good enough for him.
Deacon looked back at the terminal and reread the conversation between Austin and Sam. Austin just wasn’t giving it up. Too smart for his own good… and it nearly cost him his life.
Watch yourself, Austin. There can always be another accident you don’t wake up from…
Final investigation into the accident revealed nothing overtly alarming in the way of more problems; it’d been isolated. But routine checks were being made for the station and AI/ship computers on more frequent schedules. It required more resource allocation, but BenDeCorp didn’t want to take any chances. It was a new station, and as brilliantly made as it was, there were bound to be mistakes and the people back home actually felt good about what had happened and how the crew and station responded. It had been their first test.
Daniel considered the whole incident to be nothing more than a mere headache and interruption in her day. After all, they were professionals and trained to do their jobs. The fact that Austin got hurt, in her mind at least, was his own doing. She felt responsible in the face of some pressure from back home, but the distance between their worlds was staggering, and she felt annoyed at the constant over-the-shoulder treatment when they knew their jobs better than anyone else.
The company didn’t want them thinking they were out there alone, but they were. The five of them and the AI’s they worked with. Even then, only Sam came closest to being a companion.
Austin was relaxing in his room and playing a video game when he saw the tell-tale blinking on his monitor. The green light on the far corner indicated a private and secure message for his eyes only. His wife? No, they weren’t due to talk for a few more days. It was somebody else. But who would be interested in talking to him directly, outside of protocol like this? Leaning forward he tapped a few keys and sat back to see what it was about.
A familiar face lit up the screen and Austin recognized his old friend and colleague he’d known for 10 years. They trained in the company together, right up until mission launch. Stan was his standby. In the event that Austin couldn’t make it for whatever reason, Stan would be ready to take his place aboard the station for four years. As it was, Stan had to be ready to leave within the month should something occur that forced an early abort for the crew. He very well might be the one who replaced Austin in four years’ time, so his days were almost as busy, if not more so, than Austin’s himself. To get a personal message from him peeked Austin’s curiosity as to what he had to say.
His friend leaned in close to the camera, his eyes drawn and looking concerned.
“Austin,” Stan said, barely above a whisper. He looked back over her shoulder before continuing. “I only have two, maybe three minutes. I debated whether to send this to you or not, as I can’t ask you to respond in turn to me. So, listen closely, and play this for no one else, just trash it when you’re done. Got it?”
Austin sat up, immediately more alert. Everything he’d said and how he’d done it spoke of complete breach of protocol. From asking it to be scrubbed from archives, to not submitting the message through proper channels, something had bugged him to risk a job infraction like this. That was one thing the company cared about most: privacy and security. And Stan appeared stressed and concerned, he obviously knew he was wading in hot water.
“You’re going to think I’m paranoid, and maybe I am, but I heard something two days ago, and decided to look into it.” His friend drew closer to the camera and lowered his voice further still. “I think you’re in danger. You’re going to have to trust me on this, but something…something’s not right.” He rubbed his temples before continuing. “They discovered something, Austin. Something huge. This is going to sound incredible and, like I said, you’re not going to believe me, but I think they’ve made contact.” Stan suddenly stopped to look back over his shoulder, leaning his ear towards the door leading out of the room. For a brief moment, Austin thought the video had frozen for the complete lack of movement, but then Stan turned back to the camera, and what he said next made him sure his friend had gone nuts.
“I’m talking about aliens, for crying out loud. Real flipping aliens Austin! Whatever it is, it’s huge. I overheard something I shouldn’t have, and you know they’re never sloppy like that. If they know I know… Look, everything you’re doing there is a farce. When I looked into it and dug around a bit, I found out something more. In fact, it’s just a matter of time before they realize... Ugh. This is crazy, and believe me, I hear myself. You’re not safe, Austin, do you hear me? You are not safe.” And he punctuated each word, as if willing Austin to believe him.
Stan looked down, shaking his head as if trying to gather his thoughts. “Oh hell.” And he laughed. “It just dawned on me… it might be you. I honestly might be giving up everything I know by telling you this. Especially if it is you. If it is, well, then I’m toast anyway.” He looked to be wrestling with himself, struggling with what to say. “No, I can’t believe it could be you, not after everything we’ve been through together. Someone on board is not who they appear to be, or doing what they were sent there to do… and it matters because they don’t care about us.”
Austin looked around the room, as if waiting to see if his friends would pop out and yell surprise, “we got you!” kind of thing. But Stan seemed serious, and he would never have gotten as far if he were crazy. It only left one option… He was telling the truth, or at least the truth as he saw it.
“Look, I know none of this make sense. I get it okay? But there’s something going on and it’s big. It’s bigger than any of us. And I know for a fact that one of you on that station is working for someone else. Look, this would be a cause for celebration any other time, this is a huge damn deal.” And the old Stan came back again, excitement on his face. “Aliens, Austin! Except they don’t want any of us to know about it, but even more, someone on board the station means to see you don’t make it back. I know that sounds crazy, hell, I’m having trouble believing it myself. But no matter what, if nothing else, just remember to—”
Stan jerked back suddenly and glanced over his shoulder. He stayed still for a moment before turning back and hitting a button, effectively ending the video. The screen filled with BenDeCorp’s logo once more with the tagline, Shining Beacon, A Light in the Future, a Home in the Stars.
Austin sat back, fingers scratching his lips as he tried to process it all. What in the hell was Stan talking about? It was obviously a joke. And even if not, how in the hell was he supposed to do anything when, by Stan’s own warning, he couldn’t trust anyone to talk to about it in the first place? A fine mess he put him in. Either he’d be the laughing stock of the station because they’d know he never said anything—and thus fell for the joke—or he’d expose himself by saying something if any of it were true. Even if Stan were misguided, it left little for Austin to do and he couldn’t see how his hands weren’t tied. Then it hit him.
The accident. The anomaly. No, he couldn’t start second-guessing everything from now on either. It was just too much. It was clearly a joke, or maybe a test from back home trying to see how he would react under stressful situations. Could that be it?
Austin stood up and paced the room. Every message was screened, so there’s no way that could’ve gotten through if true. Yet Stan was like him. He would know how to put something through the human screeners and the AIs back home if he wanted to.
What was he talking about? Contact? An alien? The fact that he was in danger?
Austin needed time to think. Fine. He had a couple of things he could try. Samantha would help him figure it out. He left his room to see what he could learn.
“Okay Sam,” he said a few minutes later, “you remember my theories on the anomaly, right?”
“Yes, Austin,” said the pleasant female AI voice.
“Put all the sensor arrays on the projected path of gravitational influence according to my previous theory and report any anomalies,” he told Sam.
“Working,” said the AI.
Okay, he thought, show time.
“Nothing, Austin,” said Sam. “At least nothing to report.”
“Could something be hiding…” He thought about what he was looking for. It would be hard to tell the AI to search for something that he himself couldn’t begin to identify “Could there be another station…or vessel…cloaked somehow?”
“Please restate the question,” said Sam.
“Could there be anything in orbit anywhere near us? Not man-made? I want gravimetric, infrared, radioactive, everything the station has thrown at it.”
“All right Austin, allocating resources. But this will annoy Chase in ops and Danielle in the medial hab, as they are currently conducting their own–”
“Just do it. Override if you have to.”
There was a brief silence, then Samantha spoke with what sounded like concern in her voice, probably the first time Austin had ever heard that emotional programed response in the AI. “Two sensors are returning something odd…I’m getting incredibly unusual results…as per ship protocol I am now notifying Danielle of the—”
Emergency klaxon started blaring throughout the ship, lights blinking everywhere as a Protocol-3 emergency proximity alert had just been enacted. Something big was now nearby.
Or uncloaked itself…
It looked like things just got real.
Deacon stepped into the hanger and watched the door close behind him. He had a few hours before dinner and wanted to send the next batch of probes out before the day ended. They had hundreds of expendable drones with the ability to manufacture more. But as for the big guns, those probes were numbered and had to be well-taken care of. They were capable of faster travel, more intensive studies and had the ability for station assess and repair work.
They also weren’t scheduled to be used for another few weeks. That might matter if Deacon wasn’t given priority to use them at will. As it was, he could do whatever he wanted and no one else on board would even care. But unlike the throwaway probes, Icarus 1—and the other 3 main ones as well—needed fine management and were to be taken care of, if not babied.
Normally that wouldn’t pose a problem this far out in space, even in the little atmosphere of Mars. But that was exactly what he worried about, he wasn’t just sending it into space. He was sending it to space-zero, the border around the ship where strange things seemed to happen. From what they gathered, the vessel had shown up without the weird readings that currently emanated from it. That came within a few hours. Before the sensors started echoing back unusable info, the data suggested a square shape, with occasional odd protrusions and design. And designed it was. From what they’d put together from initial readings, everything about it suggested ship. What else would it be? And obviously an alien ship, unless humans had finally discovered the secrets of time travel and sent it back themselves. The thought made for entertaining speculation, but Deacon took that theory the least serious. So did everyone else. It was an alien ship, but no aliens had appeared. And as advanced as it was, no one was under the impression the ship wasn’t unaware that it had been discovered. But no one had thrown out the welcome mat.
Yet it remained undetectable not just to the human eye, but to most measurements as well.
But not all. The border showed up if you knew what to look for. The technology to even detect it hadn’t existed five years ago. Deacon could almost feel it.
You’re out there, buddy…we just can’t see you. Yet. But whatever you are, I’m getting in. Deacon believed the ship was waiting to be discovered. As a precursor to what he didn’t know. But the fact remained, it was a treasure of technology waiting to be boarded and exploited. Had the ship meant the station any harm, BenDeCorp’s best reassured him, it could have responded or done so by now.
‘Could’ and ‘would’ weren’t interchangeable however.
How comforting for them, he thought, all the way back home like that. Yet the prize was worth the risk. He even somewhat agreed with their assessment. Any intelligence that could just…warp there like that, just virtually pop into existence, had to be advanced beyond their wildest dreams. If they meant harm, they could crush whomever they wanted, however they wanted, and at any time. It was almost as if the aliens, or whoever had piloted the ship there—remotely?—wanted to give the humans a gift.
At least that’s what he told himself. Why else would they observe and allow themselves to be observed, however discreetly, when they could attack if they wanted? And they hadn’t, despite Deacon making a nuisance of himself with constant probes and tests. BenDeCorp wasn’t above martyring their best and brightest for what it saw as massive gains and a foothold on better space exploration the world had not yet seen.
They had priorities. And Deacon was in the inner circle.
It was just too bad the others would never be on board with keeping the secret strictly within the company.
Deacon keyed open a hatch to separate the bay from the spinning ring so as to allow weightlessness and the ejection of the Icarus 1 and 2.
Locking his feet down with the mag-clamps on his boots, Deacon depressurized the bay safely from inside the bay pilot box and waited until it was clear. The stars met him as he watched the door slide open. It truly was majestic to behold.
And it held secrets, just waiting to be discovered.
Knowing he had about twenty minutes for the probes to reach their points of initial mission start, with another half hour or so after that, Deacon brought the bay back in and refilled atmosphere. He could spacewalk later, something he never grew tired of. And it’d make for a great way to dispose of any…problems, too, he thought. If only.
Some time later the probes formed, grouped together on their way in a special grid, with Icarus 1 in front and Icarus 2 staggered back at an angle some distance away.
They were reaching space-zero and Deacon checked for what felt the hundredth time to see if the computers and AI were off-network in the hab, as he ritually did. His work gave him an excuse to unplug from the others and he took it. No one would question that he did it, but they would question his work if they saw it on their own screens.
Deacon suddenly frowned. Icarus 1 had vanished from the screen.
He hit all-stop and the network of probes ceased forward movement as one.
Leaning in he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.
The cameras from Icarus 2 showed a projection of where 1 should be, but there was nothing. Yet while it didn’t appear on screen from cameras anywhere, data was still coming back from it when it shouldn’t have if it weren’t there anymore.
Had it entered the field early? Deacon checked his numbers and saw what seemed to be the only option. The field was expanding. The smaller probes wouldn’t have picked it up, but the Icarus could.
And the cloak now covered the probe.
If Icarus 1 was inside the space fields from the alien vessel, that meant either movement of the ship, or movement of the field.
Deacon flicked the green light for alpha pattern two across the screen and the probes immediately obeyed, zooming off into new directions and forming a new grid.
Icarus 1 did not reappear, but he hadn’t expected it to. It seemed once inside the field, all control was lost.
But what did it mean?
He wasn’t a physicist, but he knew enough to know he was seeing something truly out of this world, or at least it would be if he were back on earth. This was incredible to watch.
The probes reached their new starting
points and he waited as they sat awaiting his commands.
Did he send in number 2? If he lost 1, and he was pretty sure he had, then losing Icarus 2 would not go unnoticed. He could chalk up the first to an accident, but the pair of them both lost to accident?
Deacon’s hand hovered over the keyboard as he thought through his options. If he could only get some more data. Something to tell him what he was working with. If he could send someone, he would. He didn’t dare go out himself until he had at least an idea of what lay beyond the field, cloaked or not.
Did whatever hid the ship, cause the field? Or was the field distortion—unseen as it were—the cloak itself?
He needed more info if he were to ever find how to uncloak the ship, at least enough to enter.
Open up, damn you. You want to be found, you know it.
His finger dropped, hovered, then hit ‘enter.’ He was sending Icarus 2 slowly to the edge, the new edge now, with the rest of the probes displaced to record it. He hated waiting. Let what would happen, happen.
Before the probe could reach zero-space, the boundary where space seemed to distort on readings, Icarus 1 suddenly reappeared.
Or what was left of Icarus 1.
Icarus 1’s outer shell and casings were made of a Tirinium alloy. Nothing could do what had seemingly been done to it. Icarus 1 was dented in like a floating mashed-up ball of gigantic tinfoil in two, maybe three different places.
It suddenly just appeared, and it looked as though a giant had squeezed it like a stress ball.
Nothing could do that once the material was set. The process had been proven impossible and the best engineers had rightfully patted themselves on the back on the incredible discovery.
For the first time, Deacon felt fear. Fear and awe.
What did that?
It would have to be incredible pressure. But what kind could do that? What kind of power would that take?
There should have been readings.
Lights suddenly lit up across all the probes as they identified another shift in border movement.
Dark Contact Page 3
