by Greg Cox
Shaun caught the reference. She was citing a classic old science-fiction story in which an unlucky stowaway had to be jettisoned from a crucial space mission that had absolutely no margin for error. She was right about one thing: this Saturn mission was a lot less precarious than that fictional space flight. The ship’s chemical fuel cells produced more than enough water for their purposes, weight was less of an issue since they hadn’t needed to achieve escape velocity, and as for food, well, NASA didn’t intend them to starve to death if one of the refrigerated pantries went on the fritz.
“Listen, you freeloader,” Fontana said. “If you think you’re eating any of my share, think again. I’m not doing without because some irresponsible gate crasher snuck in where she didn’t belong.”
“That’s not going to be a problem,” Querez said. “If you check your cargo bay, you’ll find enough frozen dinners to sustain me for the trip and enough missing cargo to make up the weight difference.”
“Missing cargo?” Shaun didn’t like the sound of that. “What are you talking about? Every bit of that equipment was vitally important to this ship’s mission.”
“Yeah, right,” she said sarcastically. “Like that time capsule from Ms. Hultquist’s third-grade class at Thomas Jefferson Elementary School, the one with the large bronze plate with Senator Plummer’s name on it?” She rolled her eyes. “C’mon, we all know that was a boondoggle to get one last vote on that funding bill. Somehow I think science will survive if you don’t drop a crate of glorified souvenirs — including, as I recall, a school yearbook, a Bible, several personal letters and drawings, an autographed football, various stuffed animals and action figures, flash drives, CDs, baby teeth, and a complete set of Harry Potter novels — into orbit around Saturn for all eternity.”
Touché, Shaun thought. He recalled posing for a photo op with the senator back in her hometown in Kansas City. At the time, it had seemed a small price to pay for a crucial vote in the Senate. “I take it the time capsule didn’t make it aboard?”
“Not exactly,” she admitted, “although there’s a package with all the right markings. And you know all those orchid bulbs that big perfume company sponsored?”
“I get the idea,” Shaun said curtly. “You seem to have thought this all out, Ms. Querez.”
“Please,” she insisted. “Call me Zoe.”
Fontana snorted. “That’s not what I was planning to call you.”
“You said something about the ‘real story’ behind our mission,” O’Herlihy recalled. “What did you mean by that?”
“Like you don’t know,” she challenged him. “I mean, all of a sudden, we have to go to Saturn, even though Mars and Jupiter are much closer to Earth? Hell, Saturn is twice as far from the sun as Jupiter is, but we’re going there first? You really expect people to buy that?”
“We’ve explained that before,” Shaun said. “Dozens of times. Jupiter has a far more dangerous radioactive field, and Saturn just happens to be in alignment right now, or will be by the time we get there. We miss this chance, it’s another thirty years before it comes around our way again. If ever we want to check out Saturn and its moons, now’s the time.”
“Plus, there’s the comet,” Fontana reminded him.
“That’s right,” Shaun said. He’d gone over this in countless press conferences, so he knew the spiel by heart. “Hubble has spotted a previously unknown comet approaching Saturn. It should be passing by the planet about the time we arrive. How could we pass up an opportunity like that? It’s a two-fer.”
“Sure, sure, that’s the official story,” Zoe said skeptically, “and I’m certain it’s true enough as far as the space science goes. Thirty-year solar revolution, dangerous Jovian radiation, incoming comet, yada, yada. But that’s not the whole deal, is it?” She winked at them. “What about the trouble with the rings?”
O’Herlihy frowned. “What trouble? There is no trouble with the rings.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard,” she said. “Word is, Saturn’s famous rings are coming apart—‘destabilizing’ is the term my sources use — which could mess up the entire solar system.”
“Nonsense,” O’Herlihy said. “That’s just a crackpot theory perpetuated by fringe elements. Contrary to what you might have read on the Internet, Saturn’s rings are always full of irregularities and hardly uniform throughout. There are clumps and corrugations, froths and churns, some nearly three kilometers high.” His voice took on a pedantic tone, as though he were addressing a classroom. “Think of them as raging rivers, complete with waves and rapids.”
“Uh-huh,” Zoe said, unconvinced. “But those rivers are getting wilder, aren’t they, Professor?”
O’Herlihy sighed wearily. “Yes, conventional astronomers have recently detected some intriguing ‘wobbles’ in the rings, possibly caused by the approach of the comet, but that’s just one more reason to visit Saturn and its moons at this particular juncture. There’s no cause for alarm, despite the various dooms-day scenarios on the Web.”
“Really?” Zoe asked. “What if the rings break apart and the pieces come flying at the Earth?”
“A ridiculous fantasy,” O’Herlihy insisted. “Even if the rings did disintegrate, Earth is much too far away to be significantly affected. Chances are, the loose debris would just add to the asteroid belt, if it didn’t spiral into Saturn and burn up in its atmosphere.”
Zoe almost looked disappointed. “Oh.”
“Space is fascinating enough,” Shaun said, “without having to sensationalize things. Trust me, we have plenty of good reasons to check out Saturn right here and now, but the end of the world isn’t one of them.”
Zoe shrugged. “Well, a girl can always dream, you know.”
“Jesus!” Fontana said. “Why are we even wasting time talking to this flake?” She turned toward Shaun and O’Herlihy. “Now what are we going to do? Turn back?”
“Perhaps we should,” O’Herlihy said. “Despite Ms. Querez’s secret stores, her presence here completely upends our mission plans. We have no contingency plans for this.” He shook his head dolefully. “Missions have been aborted for less.”
He had a point, Shaun knew, but he hated the idea of scrubbing the mission now that they were finally under way. “I don’t know, Doc. A lot is depending on this mission. You know as well as I do that the space program is on life support as is, especially given the shaky state of the world economy. Plenty of people want to shut us down altogether.”
He wasn’t exaggerating. Back in the United States, thousands of homeless people were crammed into so-called sanctuary districts, with little hope of finding new jobs and lives anytime soon. The average citizen was more concerned with the economy, terrorism, global warming, wars, and the latest celebrity scandal than with humanity’s future in space. Shaun’s recent publicity tour had driven that home. Many today saw space exploration as a costly luxury that the world could no longer afford — or, worse yet, as the outmoded dream of an earlier generation. There weren’t even any space shows on TV anymore. Hope was out of fashion.
“We need a successful mission, to get people excited about space and the future again. And NASA in particular could use a public-relations victory right now. The Eastern Coalition has already beaten us back to the moon. We can’t come in second on Saturn, too.” The more he thought about it, the more he realized what was at stake. “This is our last chance. We turn back now, that’s it, not just for the Saturn mission but for the entire space program. We’ll be grounded for good.”
O’Herlihy scratched his beard. “It would be a shame to miss out on that comet,” he admitted, “not to mention our chance to examine those intriguing ripples in the rings. As a scientist, I’ll never have an opportunity like this again.”
Shaun knew how much that meant to O’Herlihy. The doctor was a devout family man, very attached to his wife and daughter, yet he had agreed to leave them for 190 days and put hundreds of millions of kilometers between himself and his family, for the chance
to take part in this mission. That was dedication.
“I won’t be any trouble,” Zoe insisted. “I’ll just be along as an observer… to document your historic mission. And I’ll help promote your success once we get back to Earth. Just think of me as an embedded journalist, like during a war.”
“Shut up,” Fontana said. “Nobody invited you along. You’re an intruder, not a guest.” She kept a wary eye on Zoe as she conferred with her colleagues. “And how do we know she is who she says she is, anyway? For all we know, she’s a saboteur or a terrorist… like those HEL freaks back home.”
The Human Extinction League was a radical environmental group that regarded humanity as a blight upon the planet and actually advocated its voluntary extinction, sooner rather than later. They had vowed to stop NASA from spreading the “plague” of humanity to other worlds and had even launched raids and attempted bombings against the space program. Just last week, the Johnson Space Center in Houston had received a threatening letter containing a suspicious white powder. Operations had been shut down for hours before Homeland Security determined that the powder was just an artificial sweetener.
“What if she’s some sort of suicide bomber,” Fontana asked, “out to sabotage the mission?”
“Then why haven’t I done it already?” Zoe stretched out her arms. “Does it look like I’m wearing a suicide vest?” She scoffed at the notion. “Trust me, I’ve interviewed some HEL types, and they’re a little extreme for my tastes.”
“See?” Fontana said. “She admits she knows them.”
“So? I’ve interviewed movie stars, too. That doesn’t make me a Scientologist.” She appealed to Shaun. “Look, Skipper, check out my credentials if you don’t believe me.”
“Oh, I will,” Shaun promised. He wasn’t looking forward to having that conversation with Houston. “And we’re going to conduct a stem-to-stern search of this ship just to make sure there aren’t any more hidden surprises.”
“But that still leaves the burning question of what we’re going to do with her,” O’Herlihy said, “no matter which way we’re going.”
Fontana shrugged. “We could flush her out the airlock.”
Shaun assumed she was joking… maybe. “We’ll have to rig up a brig of some sort, perhaps in the airlock outside the cargo bay.” Unfortunately, the Lewis & Clark had not been designed with prisoners in mind. “And keep a close eye on her regardless.”
“Works for me,” Zoe said. “At least until I can get you to trust me.”
“Don’t hold your breath for that,” Fontana said. “What’s the ruling, Commander? Are we seriously thinking about staying on course for Saturn?”
“That’s for Mission Control to decide,” he reminded them, “but if we present a unified front, our decision is likely to carry a lot of weight.” He made up his mind. “I say we keep on going. We turn back now, we’re never going to get another chance.”
“All right, Shaun,” O’Herlihy said. “You’ve convinced me. I’m game if you are.”
“Thanks, Marcus.” Shaun looked at Fontana. “What about you?”
As he knew from experience, his copilot wasn’t fond of surprises, especially where a mission was concerned. She was all about advance planning and preparation. An X factor like their stowaway was bound to get under her skin.
She scowled, then let out an exasperated sigh. “What the hell. Far be it from me to be the spoilsport who kept mankind from going to Saturn. If you two are willing to put up with this juvenile idiot for more than two billion kilometers, you can count on me to back you up with Mission Control. But don’t think I’m happy about it.” She glared at Zoe. “If it was up to me, you’d be in a maximum-security prison cell as fast as we could turn this boat around.”
“You may get your wish eventually,” Zoe conceded. “If it’s any consolation.”
“Not really.” Fontana gave Shaun a rueful look. “I really hope you know what you’re doing, Shaun.”
Me, too, he thought.
Four
2270
“Klondike VI directly ahead, sir.”
“Slow to impulse, Mr. Sulu,” Kirk instructed, relieved to have reached their destination at last. The Enterprise had made good time getting there, but nineteen long days had passed since they had first received word of the crisis facing the mining colony. A yeoman offered him a cup of hot coffee, which he accepted gratefully. He leaned forward in his chair. “Let’s see where we are.”
The planet appeared on the viewscreen. Kirk was struck by its resemblance to Saturn. The stormy cloud belts striping its upper atmosphere were perhaps a touch more purple, and its glittering rings were configured slightly differently, but if you squinted, you could almost imagine that you were back in the Sol system. Although Klondike VI was still some distance away, the haloed orb filled the main viewer. It shone with reflected light.
“Beautiful,” Uhura observed. “I’ve always liked ringed planets. There’s something special about them.”
“In what way, Lieutenant?” Spock asked. “Such rings are simply the result of predictable gravitational factors. Within a planet’s Roche limit, tidal forces tear apart any large satellites and prevent new ones from being formed. Most rings are simply composed of random ice particles and other debris caught in a perpetual orbit.”
“I know all that, Mr. Spock,” Uhura replied. “But I still think they’re gorgeous.”
Spock did not argue the point. “I will concede that their symmetry has a certain aesthetic appeal.”
“These particular rings are more than decorative,” Kirk pointed out. He had been reading up on Klondike VI during the voyage. “Those aren’t just ice crystals circling that planet. The inner rings are laced with significant amounts of dilithium, enough to make a mining operation both profitable and crucial to the future of space exploration.”
The rings before them were like precious bracelets, sparkling with the rarest of gemstones. A shame they were destabilizing.
“Indeed,” Spock said. “Prior to the present crisis, the Skagway colony was on its way to becoming the primary source of crystallized dilithium in this sector. It would be a significant loss should the operations there be curtailed.”
“Not to mention the possible threat to the colony’s population,” Kirk reminded him. The captain squinted at the image of Klondike VI but could not make out the moon in question. “Are we within view of Skagway?”
According to their files, the moon occupied a gap between the inner and outer rings. Skagway’s own gravity helped to keep the gap open — at least, until recently.
“Coming around now, Captain.” Sulu brought the Enterprise into orbit above the planet’s rings, then descended into the empty gap. Kirk spied a bright reflective object ahead of them. The moon grew larger as the starship quickly caught up with it. The Enterprise slowed to keep pace with the tiny moon. “There it is.”
Skagway was a small moon, barely one hundred kilometers in diameter. An icy white glaze, pock-marked with craters, covered its surface. No atmosphere protected it from random meteor strikes. Only a fraction of the size of Earth’s own moon, it was nonetheless home to nearly two thousand souls. Kirk hoped they weren’t in too much trouble.
“Full magnification,” he ordered.
A domed colony could be seen on the frozen surface of the moon. A crude spaceport surrounded the central dome. Automated harvesters and sifters, designed to extract dilithium from the nearby rings, were parked on landing pads composed of resurfaced ice. A small fleet of shuttles, tugs, and scout ships, ill equipped and insufficient to evacuate the entire colony, also occupied the spaceport. Crude hangars were presumably used to repair and service the various vehicles. Thermal collectors faced the planet, which, like Saturn, generated its own heat. Skagway rotated slowly on its axis, providing abbreviated days and nights for the people living beneath the translucent geodesic dome. The moon’s dense core had made subterranean drilling both expensive and problematic.
Too bad, Kirk thought.
The colonists might be safer beneath the ground, at least in the short term. If only we had some Hortas at our disposal.
Looking closer, the captain spied what appeared to be evidence of the emergency. Fresh craters pitted the frozen lunar landscape. Various shuttles and harvesters were visibly damaged, possibly beyond repair. And the colony’s protective dome, while still intact, had been pitted by multiple high-speed collisions with falling objects. Even as Kirk watched the viewer, chunks of icy debris pelted the airless moon, throwing up clouds of crystalline powder. A slab of ice (or was it dilithium?) the size of a small shuttle barely missed the dome, hitting a landing pad outside the colony. A limited array of surface-to-air phasers had been deployed to defend the dome but were clearly inadequate to the crisis at hand; they had been intended to deal with only the occasional random object, not a constant barrage. Skagway was caught in a cosmic hailstorm that seemed to be growing in ferocity.
“Receiving hailing frequencies,” Uhura reported. “It’s Governor Dawson.”
The Enterprise’s arrival had apparently not gone unnoticed.
“Put her through,” Kirk said.
“Yes, Captain.”
Skooka Dawson appeared on-screen. A handsome woman in her late fifties who appeared to be of Aleutian descent, she was dressed simply in orange miner’s overalls. Close-cropped white hair framed a drawn face that showed obvious signs of strain. Dark pouches beneath her eyes hinted that she had not been sleeping well. A framed photo of the aurora borealis could be glimpsed in the background. A chunk of unprocessed dilithium rested atop her desk.
“Hello, Captain. Thank you for responding so promptly to our distress signal.”
“My pleasure, Governor.” Kirk was eager to get the straight scoop from the ground. “What’s your status?”
“Bad and getting worse,” she replied, not mincing words. “My scientists tell me that the planet’s rings are collapsing inward, which puts us right in the middle of an avalanche. We’ve had nonstop hailstorms for days now, and some of the bigger pieces are large enough to sink the Titanic, if you get the reference.”
