Project Sail

by Anthony DeCosmo

  Hawthorne tried to smile but a bout of exhaustion swept across him from head to toe. He staggered to his chair and fell into it, legs wobbling.

  Coffman strolled next to him, his eyes fixed on the video screen showing the empty space where the battleship once existed.

  “Something on your mind, professor?” Hawthorne asked the understatement of the year.

  “Yes, well, it’s just that the transmission from the cylinder did reach the battleship, at least a portion of it, so Lazarus did get what he wanted.”

  “Did he? Perhaps he bit off more than a mouthful, so to speak. Like Wren said before, how pissed would you be if someone woke you from a nap. Or, in this case, screwed up your new, super-evolved existence.”

  “Interesting, isn’t it? From what Dr. Kost learned, it sounds as if the aliens of this world are visiting with the infinitely small. Exploring the universe, I suppose, atop the head of a pin.”

  ---

  Admiral Amanda Duncan followed Stephen Tasker as he led her entourage of assistants and soldiers from the airlock, through the facility, and toward Lazarus’ consultation room.

  As they moved, she emphasized again, “You better have a good reason for diverting me to Pan and I hope it has to do with fixing the Laser Communications Relay.”

  “The relay is working, just not as efficiently since Lazarus disappeared last month.”

  As they passed a big room, Duncan saw people wearing colored body suits throwing a big rubber ball to one another. She wondered again how this collection of oddballs managed to keep the most important communications station in the solar system running.

  “I thought Lazarus was uploaded into the computer here.”

  “He moved freely throughout our network, so it was always theoretically possible he could travel outside our system.”

  “I do not understand, Mr. Tasker.”

  “Lazarus is a collection of quantum particles, those particles that comprised his consciousness.”

  “Quantum mechanics is not my strong suit,” she admitted, “but I am aware this was one big quantum computer into which he was loaded.”

  “My point is that it has always been possible for him to change his structure. We were hoping that he might lead us to the next step in human evolution, a step that would see humanity trade in the limits of our biological bodies in exchange for the freedom of pure consciousness.”

  “Mr. Tasker, I am growing tired of this new age bull shit. Why am I here?”

  They entered the consultation chamber, a dome-shaped room with a glass table, a plastic chair, and a pair of video screens, one filled with text.

  “We received a message through the optical lattices that are a part of Lazarus’ core housing here.”

  “I have no clue what you are talking about.”

  Tasker pointed at a screen and huffed, “We received a message that was almost like Lazarus sending a message to himself, and that message was addressed to you with specific instructions.”

  She squinted and her lips moved silently as she read lines of text. When she was done, she motioned to a pair of soldiers among her escort to take their host into custody.

  “You are under arrest, Mr. Tasker.”

  “What? Why?”

  “This message references a top secret project that you should have no knowledge of, and if this message is not a hoax, it originates from twenty-two light years away. Tell me, is the QE link located in this room or somewhere else on Pan?”

  The soldiers grabbed Tasker’s arms.

  “We do not have a QE link here, Admiral.”

  She stepped close to him and growled, “Then how the hell are you receiving a message addressed to me from Gliese 581g? That takes quantum entanglement.”

  Tasker suggested, “Well, this is a quantum computer and Lazarus is made of quantum particles, maybe there is a connection.”

  “Without two entangled particles it would be impossible to send a message like this.”

  Tasker shrugged and said, “Maybe somebody out there knows how to hack quantum mechanics.”

  50. Elpis

  Commander Jonathan Hawthorne floated in space tethered to his ship while he drew letters on the starboard hull using a zero gravity painting canister.

  The view from orbit was fantastic. Flashes inside a mass of churning gray clouds marked a thunderstorm forming just off the northern continent’s coast. Further south, the clouds scattered allowing a clear view of a green and brown delta where rivers flowed to the ocean.

  Gliese 581g oversaw everything, its color now red and black, a reminder of the inferno that had swept across its surface. Hawthorne paused in his work and remembered that Matthew Carlson and Sheila Black had died almost two months ago, but when he looked in the other direction he saw a reminder of why their sacrifice had not been in vain.

  Three gigantic ships hung in orbit above G-Moon, having traveled there from Titania with ten thousand souls who had left behind the disappointment of Mars for the hope of a new world.

  A constant stream of drop ships traveled from orbit to the surface and back, hauling supplies and people to the gift left for them by a mysterious alien race.

  The radio inside his helmet came to life.

  “Jonathan, they said you are out on a spacewalk. Is that true?”

  He answered Kelly, “That’s right, but I am almost done.”

  “What are you doing?”

  He glanced down at the thunderstorm, then over at the transport ships and the traffic surrounding them, and then at the words he had painted on the hull.

  “Just enjoying the view.”

  ---

  Wren switched off the HUD inside his helmet and watched a cargo helicopter lower a panel on to the top of a partially constructed habitat dome growing on a plateau above the forest.

  For now, it would be a sealed dome, but if the next two minutes went well, they would add windows and screen doors.

  Dr. King emerged from the tent’s temporary airlock and joined Wren and Kost outside in the sunlight cast by the red dwarf sun that dominated the sky.

  His attention was distracted as two four-wheeled buggies buzzed across the clearing on their way to survey a lake discovered east of the woods.

  “Those fucking idiots are going to kill themselves.”

  Kost said, “Leo, your language, seriously?”

  “You’re right, let me rephrase. Those fucking people are going to kill themselves.”

  He held a straight face for a second and then they both burst into laughter until Dr. King produced a syringe.

  Wren took Ellen’s hand and asked, yet again, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “You don’t think I should?”

  “I think you deserve to be first, but even after the tests and lab animals there is still a risk.”

  “I’ve taken a lot of risks on this trip,” she said. “Go ahead, Ira, let’s see what happens.”

  “Okay, child, I need to access the medical port on your suit.”

  Kost complied, raising her left arm. King stepped close and injected the concoction into the port. A moment later the suit finished the job, administering the dose.

  “How long should she wait?” Wren asked.

  “A minute or two to ensure she is fully inoculated.”

  A space plane flew overhead on its way toward the landing strip, bringing yet more people and more supplies to the surface. Wren thought it felt like moving day across the entire moon.

  As they waited, Wren asked Dr. King, “Any news from Soto?”

  “Nothing new.”

  Ellen said, “But they think they’ve isolated a sample, right?”

  “Just breathe and relax,” King told her and then said to Wren, “They found only a trace, but possibly enough to replicate the organism.”

  Kost put a hand on Wren’s shoulder and excitedly told him, “You have looked for an answer for years, maybe this is it. If we have found traces of the biological nanobot the aliens used to clean up this moon and we
can replicate it, then—”

  He finished for her, “—then if it worked to clean up the mess here, it might just clean up the mess in England. Yes, it is exciting, but I’m not worried about cleaning England right now, I’m worried about you.”

  King told her, “I’d say you have waited long enough.”

  Ellen Kost reached to the neck of her suit, undid two safety clasps, deactivated the primary locking mechanism, removed her helmet, and drank in the moon’s unfiltered atmosphere.

  Kost inhaled deep, it had been a long time since she had breathed fresh air and it tasted delicious.

  Wren asked, “Well, what’s it like?”

  She told him, “To put it in words you would understand, it’s fucking awesome.”

  ---

  Coffman circled the chamber and while the bodies had been removed, the fleet of drones he had sent to study the artifact remained, although their purpose had long-since ended.

  The alien cylinder lay on the floor, just as they had discovered it after Lazarus drained its signal and suffered an unknown fate.

  Andy Phipps knelt next to one of the dormant drones removing a data chip, as he had with the others. They had been at ground zero of the event, perhaps they measured something during that last transmission the sensors in orbit failed to notice.

  “What do you think it was, Professor?”

  “What’s that? Oh, the cylinder, yes, well we know it was a fixed-point in space, meaning our universe. Maybe it was the door to their new existence or a window. Perhaps it was the equivalent of a broadcasting tower meant to play the recording that reached into our minds,” and he tapped his helmet.

  “And now it’s empty?”

  The object that had appeared intimidating and awe-inspiring hanging in the air seemingly suspended by nothing now looked like a big metal tube, empty and ready for the junk heap.

  “That appears to be the case, yes, but we know they were here, don’t we? And they went somewhere, taking our friend Lazarus and his stolen warship with them, or so it would seem, and they disappeared into what was essentially a black hole of their own creation. Some theorize that black holes are portals to other dimensions.”

  Phipps stood and walked next to Coffman.

  “Will we ever know?”

  He smiled at the younger man, patted him on the shoulder, and led him toward the entrance.

  “Oh, perhaps we’ll learn something from the data tapes but I wouldn’t get my hopes up. Besides, we have an entire new world to study and explore. I think that will keep us busy for a while and I, for one, am looking forward to it.”

  The two left the chamber and exited out into the sunshine.

  ---

  Hawthorne walked toward the bridge with his helmet in hand. Reagan Fisk hurried to catch him from behind.

  “Commander!”

  He stopped and faced the Director of Planetary Operations for UVI Gliese.

  “Reagan, I haven’t seen you in weeks so I guessed your replacement arrived and you headed back to Earth.”

  “Change in plans. I’m not returning home, she’s coming here.”

  “Really? That is a big change.”

  Fisk said, “We figure there will be hungry colonists to feed and not much in the way of competitors, yet.”

  “I’m guessing there are some profitable food services contracts to be awarded?”

  “No comment. But she’s coming out on the next run, so it’ll be three weeks until she gets here.”

  They stopped outside the closed door to the bridge.

  “Commander, I saw your report on what happened and I appreciate how you described my, well, lack of participation.”

  “I told the truth.”

  “You wrote that I expressed reasonable objections to the plan, not that I pleaded for you to stop. You also said that your decision to stay and fight was because of my encouragement. Commander, it seems like you’re the one writing press releases these days.”

  Hawthorne recalled how his actions at Ganymede had been cleaned and retold to fit a public relations campaign, but he did not feel he had done the same here.

  “Reagan, you’re the one who kept talking about new beginnings and the potential of space, I just finally listened. As for your objections, they were reasonable and probably the smarter thing to do. Don’t beat yourself up over it because in the end, you were right about everything, I was just lucky again.”

  The door to the bridge opened and Kelly Thomas stood there.

  “Where have you been? You have an incoming message.”

  “Thank you, Commander. Oh, your assignment to Project Sail is about over; you will be free to go back to the Princess but, to be honest, I’m guessing you can pick your own assignment as far as Universal Visions is concerned.”

  “Is that so?” He looked from Fisk to Kelly and then back again. “I’ll try to think up something good.”

  They followed Kelly onto the bridge where Warner worked at her station coordinating air traffic and Tommy Starr played a game of Shogi on his navigation screen.

  Hawthorne activated the communications console and Admiral Duncan appeared on a screen.

  “Commander, for the first time since I arrived in orbit I’ve got some free time. I’m hoping we can sit down and have a discussion.”

  “Let me guess,” he undid his gloves and put them aside, “you’re trying to figure out the source of the message sent to Pan. I provided a detailed report on what we know.”

  “As you and I have learned, Jonathan, reports don’t often tell the whole story.”

  “I sent along the facts, anything else is guesswork, but I suspect the message telling you to send the colony ships arrived on Pan about the same time Lazarus disappeared here.”

  “Commander, this is too important for guesswork, we’re talking about a powerful alien civilization, the first proof that we are not alone in the universe.”

  “If that’s what you’re focused on, I think you will be disappointed. If I were you, I’d look at what is in front of your eyes: a habitable world orbiting a planet so rich in minerals that it will support the energy and mineral needs of thousands of colonies. That’s why you were building those ships on Titania, that’s what Project Sail was all about. Everything else is, well, not important. At least not yet.”

  She said, “Don’t leave orbit without meeting with me first, Jonathan. I would like to catch up old times.”

  He wondered, exactly, which of those old times she wanted to catch up on.

  The communications link severed.

  “Sounds like she likes you,” Kelly teased. “Looks like I’m not getting back to Earth for a while.”

  “Stop it. I promised you and I’ll take you.”

  Warner took a moment from coordinating shuttles and capsules to ask, “Commander, exactly what did you scribble on the side of the ship?”

  An image from the starboard camera projected above her station showing the letters ELPIS painted on the hull.

  Tommy Starr turned away from his game and asked, “E-L-P-I-S? What is that?”

  “SE 185 sounds like a chemical compound or something on the periodic table. I gave our ship a name because after everything she has been through, she deserves it.”

  Kelly asked, “But what does it mean?”

  Hawthorne explained, “Dr. King said G-Moon was like Pandora’s box and that we shouldn’t open it, but we did and all the evils came out.”

  Fisk said, “An Alliance cruiser, war drones, nukes, an alien signal, and your buddy Lazarus. Sounds like we opened it, yes.”

  “I did a little research into the legend and found out that after the evil escaped, there was one thing left in the box: Elpis, the spirit of hope. That’s what we have here, hope.”

  Warner turned her attention back to her control panel but not before saying, “That’s so sweet I might throw up.”

  He ignored her and sat in the Captain’s chair with Kelly and Fisk on his flanks.

  “So you’re taking a vacation to
Earth?” Fisk asked.

  Kelly said, “That’s right, he made a promise to me. I haven’t been home in a long time.”

  Fisk went on, “Funny how I was the one who wanted to run back to Earth, yet now I’m staying and you’re the one who’s quitting.”

  Hawthorne stared out the front window and thought of how Bill Stein loved flying in space.

  “Quit?” Hawthorne corrected as he eyed those gigantic colony ships in orbit and the great expanse of space beyond. “I can’t quit now, it’s just getting interesting.”

  THE END

  Tony DeCosmo, February 16, 2014

  Please go to the next page for a free sample of Opposing Force: The God Particle.

  1

  For Colonel Kurt Haas, the end of yet another day behind his vintage battleship gray desk inside a dreary, windowless office offered only the opportunity to go through the routine again.

  That routine started with watching the ancient wall clock tick-tock away the last second of his shift at 1900 hours. At that point, he straightened the papers on his desk, slid backwards in his chair with a squeal from one rusting wheel, and collected his cap from the brass coatrack.

  None of these motions were taken with any vigor; they were routine, they were mundane, and he had repeated them day after day for nearly five years.

  In the beginning, things were different. Five years ago, the colonel had been married with a wonderful five-year-old daughter when he had received a promotion to the nation’s most secret and secure facility.

  Five years sounds to be a short time, but that time had eroded away much of his life. His hair thinned, his ex-wife took his daughter to warmer climates, and his mind grew numb from a life of living “under the outside,” as the men called it.

  He closed the office door and walked a quiet hallway with his thoughts only about leaving the complex.

  The nearly featureless corridor included aging cream paint, frosted light panels overhead, and a few strips of black plastic trim, all constructed in the early 70s when the cold war simmered beneath the surface of détente. He could nearly see the ghosts of technicians pushing carts of scientific equipment between labs, but ghosts were all that remained. He passed vacant workrooms where dust-covered plastic chairs sat empty in sealed laboratories.