Beyond the Event Horizon - Episode Two

by Albert Sartison

  “By carrying out this programme, we can guarantee the survival of our civilisation after a meteorite strike of any size, at least up to the largest that have fallen to Earth in the last two billion years.”

  “How do matters stand with defence?”

  The Minister of Defence nodded to MacQueen, who took the floor again.

  “The space defence of Earth and the Moon is better developed than that of Mars. It is based on a multi-level system and consists of armed stations and static weapons both on the Moon and on ships, the grouping density of which is incomparably greater than in any other sector of the Solar System, including Mars. One should also not forget the anti-meteorite system, which can be used for making heavy strikes against the alien ships. And if the worst comes to the worst, we can attack an alien ship directly in the Earth’s atmosphere. Unlike the vacuum of space, a gaseous atmosphere carries an explosion wave, so that even if a shot explodes next to a ship, as happened on Jupiter, the effect on the hull of the alien ship would be incomparably greater. This improves our chances of damaging the enemy’s ships.”

  “As I understand it, mobilisation concerns mainly the defence of the civilian population.”

  “In general, yes.”

  “If we delay mobilisation until the aliens have passed Mars, how will this affect potential losses among civilians?”

  “The rate of evacuation of the population averages between a hundred and a hundred and fifty million people an hour. So a delay of three hours will mean that between three hundred to four hundred million people will not be able to be evacuated.”

  “What about the armed forces?”

  “With the armed forces, it is a different matter. Mobilisation of the army can take place under the pretext of exercises. In any case, secretly or openly, the army will be mobilised on time. Naturally, this applies only to the defence of Earth.”

  “I understand. I shall announce my decision concerning general mobilisation when the aliens have passed the orbit of Mars.”

  Having said that, the president made a hand gesture and the screen blacked out.

  3

  At the end of the 20th century, it was becoming more and more difficult to mine the Earth’s natural resources as well as expensive. All mining of mineral deposits had to be done at great depths, where high temperatures were beginning to cause insurmountable problems. Mankind therefore had to look skywards into space at the other planets and the asteroids. The age of the seventh industrial revolution had come. The limits for mining natural resources were widened. This time, man’s field of economic activity expanded to cover the whole star system.

  The development of a fully-fledged space mining industry required enormous investments in the space infrastructure, but the game was worth the candle. A few decades later, the new industry comprised a third of the world’s GDP. As expected, it gave a most powerful boost to the Earth’s economy, ensuring the rapid growth of global production for the next hundred years.

  Like any other sector of man’s economic activity, the space industry did not escape the attention of the criminal world. The seventh industrial revolution sped up the development of newer, faster and more efficient spacecraft, and the growth of general prosperity made them available to private individuals.

  The period of childlike innocence in conquering space had ended. After a certain delay, the criminals left the confines of their native planet and, following in the footsteps of mankind, stepped out into interplanetary space.

  The first attempts to rob cargo ships were timid and awkward, and for this reason were rarely crowned with success. But on those occasions when they did manage to take possession of the cargo, the space robbers were richly rewarded. Legends of the fantastic profits made by the first pirates spread abroad, and soon the size of the pirate fraternity began to grow in geometric progression.

  The space fleet had no difficulty coping with the pirates in a direct battle. But the military ships could not compete with the pirates in number. Their approach time to a civilian ship under attack was long enough to enable the pirates to escape easily with their booty unpunished. This gave birth to the idea of creating armed bases, which could act independently to defend commercial ships against attack.

  Such bases were located along the main commercial routes and carried powerful weaponry with a range of millions of kilometres. Within the radius of their effective fire, civilian ships could travel in safety. When proceeding on their routes, civilian ships could hurry into the nearest sector protected by a base if unidentified ships were detected on an interception course. Though there were not enough bases to cover every commercial route, they did create a real headache for the pirates.

  In time, the number of automatic protectors grew, and so the pirates were forced to operate further and further from the centre of the Solar System, where attacks on their prey still had some chance of success. The safe space zone increased.

  MRS723, its silver shell gleaming, guarded the approaches to the Red Planet in silent isolation. It circled slowly around the centre of the Solar System, shadowing Mars like a silent bodyguard. When it became visible to the naked eye, an unusually bright star against the background of the black sky, Howard came to life.

  “I can see the station. Wake our worm up. We’ll be docking in fifteen minutes,” he said to Todd.

  Todd got up from his seat, yawned widely and straightened up.

  “What tools should we take with us?”

  “Take the complete set.”

  “You mean they didn’t even tell us what we’ll need on the station?”

  Without answering, Howard switched on the line to the operator at the maintenance base.

  “We land on 723 in 15 minutes. Can you now reveal the deadly secret of what the hell they want us to do there?”

  “You have to switch off modules W17 to W56,” came the operator’s reply.

  Howard nodded to Todd, who was a team player and understood his chief immediately.

  “So... Module groups A, B, C... Group W. Number 17...” he muttered, leafing through the file. “Found it. Oh, those are the controls of the combat systems!”

  Todd looked at Howard in astonishment. Without asking, Howard took the tablet out of his hands and ran his eyes over the screen.

  “Switch off module group W, from 17 to 56. Confirm,” he said, addressing the operator.

  “I confirm. W17 to W56.”

  Howard looked at Todd again and shrugged his shoulders.

  “Roger. Anything else?”

  “Yes. You’ll have to stay on 723 for some time.”

  “That wasn’t part of the deal!” Todd objected.

  “‘Some time’ – how long is that?” asked Howard. You could see from his face that he wasn’t exactly delighted by the news.

  “I don’t know, the message just said ‘await further instructions’.”

  “OK, there’s no point in arguing, it’s a waste of time. Let’s go,” he said to Todd.

  “Over and out,” said the operator and switched off.

  As it approached the base, the ship had to lose a lot of speed. For the last few kilometres it was crawling at a snail’s pace. As a part of the special-purpose space transport industry, MRS723 never departed from the strict safety requirements under any circumstances.

  Only military ships and a very small number of maintenance ships were permitted to approach the station closely. All ships approaching to dock were constantly under the sights of the guns on board the station. The base’s AI reserved the right to abort the docking at any time. Any failure to comply at a distance closer than ten thousand kilometres and the station would shoot to kill.

  The maintenance team knew this, therefore each approach to the base made their hearts beat a little faster. Knowing that you are being targeted is a very unpleasant feeling.

  Eventually, the ship approached to within a few hundred metres, turned its tail end towards the base for ease of unloading the crew, and synchronised speed with the base. The absence
of any close landmarks in space created the illusion that they were both simply hanging motionless.

  The three of them assembled in the cargo compartment. The ramp swung out, revealing a wide gap that provided a view of the silvery side of MRS723. Two pulse-weapon turrets a little higher up were trained directly on them. Green lights shone on the muzzles, meaning that the weapons were on safety, but the sight of them still made their hearts beat faster. Now they were completely in the power of the base’s computer, which was observing them through camera lenses of impressive size. If anything went wrong, it would open fire at once. So no fooling about!

  All three, acting as one, attached their safety cords with measured movements and, pushing off gently, floated towards the nearest hatch of the base. One of the turrets, which looked like the knights in a chess set, turned its head and tracked the movement of the repair team, observing their actions intently.

  When they reached the shell of the base, they smartly reduced speed, gripping the handrails with practised movements as they approached. Howard moved towards the hatch and took a long cigar-shaped object from a pocket of his spacesuit. Pushing back a massive cover, he inserted the object in a special hole and opened the hatch. Having gestured to Todd and Bill to go ahead of him, he was the last to enter the base.

  On board, there was total weightlessness and no atmosphere. It wasn’t necessary. Seven-two-three operated without human intervention. People visited it only during infrequent technical inspections or if something became unserviceable. Like the reactor a few months ago, for example.

  That time, they’d had to sweat. The portable reactor could not be repaired where it was, so it had to be taken out and replaced by a new one. This had taken Howard’s team three weeks, working without days off.

  Howard battened down the hatch and pushed off, following the others into the control centre.

  Bill and Todd had already opened the required cabinet containing the technical modules. A bright letter W glowed on the protective cover.

  “Pass the key, Bill,” said Todd. The three of them were linked by radio in teleconference mode.

  “Todd, spit out that chewing gum, it’s disgusting to listen to you chomping on it,” said Howard.

  “Sorry chief, I forgot,” replied Todd.

  Bill, paying no attention to the others, had already opened the toolbox and found the required key to deactivate the modules. He was about to go over to the lit-up sockets surrounded by hundreds of different-coloured diodes when Howard stopped him.

  “Wait a second,” he said, pushing off from the wall towards the console. “We might as well check the system while we’re here.”

  When he started the diagnostic program, a bright light came on in the base. All the monitors came to life and were filled with diagrams, graphics and figures. The base was like a living organism awakening from hibernation.

  A two-dimensional map of the base appeared on the main screen. Its interior was marked all over with the patterns of its internal units, miles of cables and electronic spare parts. They were all changing colour as the diagnostic process proceeded. The diagram kept winking like a decorated Christmas tree.

  “There’s a short somewhere in the lighting wiring,” said Howard, not taking his eyes off the screen showing the diagram of the base.

  “Let it go, it’s nothing to worry about,” said Todd. As he waited for the test to end, he could find nothing better to do than look at his hand in the spacesuit glove.

  “One of the emergency supply batteries will soon give up the ghost. Do we have a spare with us?” asked Howard.

  “How much has it lost?” replied Bill, answering one question with another.

  “Sixty per cent of power.”

  “That’s nothing. Discharge it completely and then give it a full charge. It will keep going without problems for a few more years yet.”

  “OK, you know best,” muttered Howard, and pulled himself up to the console.

  “Stop, that won’t work. First you have to disconnect it from the circuit. There, above the long-range radar,” said Bill, prompting him.

  Howard nodded, and moved closer to the indicated place. He pressed the right button and gave the command to disconnect the battery, his eyes continuing to move around the radar display. Noticing something, he turned his whole body, focused on the screen and spent several seconds staring at it. Then he pushed it with his finger, then again, and then for a third time.

  “What is it? Is something playing up?” asked Bill.

  “See for yourself,” replied Howard.

  Bill put the key in his pocket and flew over to Howard. In the centre of the display was the schematic image of the base, from which a mesh of distances spread out in all directions like ripples from a stone thrown into a pond. The four closest circles were red in colour, denoting the range of the base’s weaponry, and there was a dot approaching them labelled ‘unidentified ship’. Howard silently pointed to it.

  “SSS, probably,” suggested Bill.

  There could be no other explanation. The civil route passed somewhat to one side, and the only ones who moved outside the transport routes were either military or pirates. It couldn’t be pirates, because it would be the height of folly for them to fly towards an armed base. As soon as they entered MRS723’s area of responsibility, they would have to identify themselves. Not having the current crypto key, they would be forced under threat of being fired upon to slow down and await the arrival of a patrol.

  “Yes, I know it has to be military, just look at the speed,” replied Howard.

  Todd started to take an interest too. He floated across to the other two bent over the display and looked over their shoulders at the screen.

  Bill touched the display with his finger at the point where the unidentified object was shown. A menu appeared above it showing the main flight parameters.

  “That’s pretty damn fast!”

  “It must be an error of some kind,” put in Todd.

  “No, it’s no error,” replied Howard, and looked at Bill. “What do you think?”

  Bill simply shrugged his shoulders.

  “God knows...”

  Howard took off his rucksack and got out his tablet. With a few rapid movements on the screen, he connected it to the ship waiting for them outside. A second or two later, the relay from their ship’s long-range radar appeared. Without saying anything, he turned the tablet to show the display first to Bill, then to Todd, so that they could read the speed figures for the unidentified object. They were identical.

  “Maybe it’s some experimental model, if it’s as nippy as all that,” suggested Bill.

  “It will soon be in the near radar’s operating zone. If it has an IFF system, the base will identify it. Let’s wait and see what sort of beast it is,” suggested Todd.

  Howard and Bill looked at each other.

  “What about the urgency of our job?” asked Bill.

  “A minute or two earlier or later won’t matter. Nothing terrible will happen,” replied Howard. He was also interested in the strange ship.

  Bill shrugged his shoulders again.

  “You’re the boss, you know best.”

  All three fell silent, staring at the screen on which the unusually fast ship was flying towards the red zone.

  “This is all very strange,” said Todd suddenly.

  “What’s strange?”

  “It’s the first patrol I’ve seen in two months.”

  “I heard that more ships were robbed in the last two weeks than in the entire previous year,” said Bill.

  “Those are just fairy tales,” said Howard dismissively.

  “First-hand information. Not fairy tales at all,” replied Bill.

  “Whose first hand was that?” asked Todd.

  “None of your business.”

  “Ah, he knows a girl who works in the Flight Control Centre,” said Todd with a broad smile, and clapped Bill on the shoulder. “Great figure!”

  Howard looked at Bill.
/>   “You’re with her again, are you?”

  “I just happened to meet her in town and we went for a coffee.”

  “Well, what did she tell you?”

  “She said they’re getting distress calls from transport ships almost every day. And each such call creates a pile of red tape. She says everyone in their team who was on holiday has been recalled and the Control Centre is full to bursting point. They’re all sitting around with eyes red from lack of sleep. Some of them have brought sleeping bags and after their shift they just curl up in corners like the homeless.”

  “Huh! What does she know about red eyes?” interposed Todd. “They sit in their office doing nothing except pressing buttons, either on the computer or on the coffee machine. They ought to send her to us, let her try to change a reactor, then she’ll know what a lot of work is.”

  “Did she say anything about Jupiter?” asked Howard.

  “I didn’t particularly ask about that. She says they’ve been sent three traffic controllers from the fleet who have been put in a separate room. Nobody knows what they’re doing there. Still, from what her colleagues tell her, some of them have found out something. They say they were monitoring a battle group that was holding exercises there. That’s all they know, no-one is allowed into their room and they don’t like to ask. Secrecy and all that.”

  “When exercises are held, do they usually send in the military?”

  “It seems not. She says herself that it’s all very strange, what was going on around Jupiter. All these problems with transport ships being robbed and the exercises happened at the same time. Oh, and she also said that for the past two months, not a single civilian ship has been allowed to go beyond the asteroid belt.”

  “I told you so!” cried Todd. “Howard, how many times did I tell you that there were no ships coming from the outer planets? Not one in two months! You bet me a beer on it!”

  “Yes, you did tell me so, good for you. You’ll get your beer,” snapped Howard, but without malice. “What about that explosion? Is anything known?”