THE CAMBRIDGE ANNEX: THE TRILOGY

by Peter Damon

  He turned to look at the small office behind him. 3 years before, the office had been the culmination of hard work, firm belief and impassioned speaking. Everything in it had been a prize, from the official White House mug, to the framed picture of the president shaking him by the hand that he had proudly hung on the wall where it could be seen by those passing the office. Now, the room was more a burden than a prize, and the picture of the president and him remained on the wall while the picture of the earth he had taken on one of his trips sat in his box ready to be taken with him, alongside the certificate Michael had sent him, recognition of his status as an astronaut.

  Glen took his resignation letter and placed it into the internal mail basket, then picked up his box of prized possessions and headed towards the door for the last time. As he settled into the back of the car, he extracted his phone and sent the second letter electronically to the editor of the Washington Post. He placed a private bet with himself that his letter to the newspaper would reach the president before his letter of resignation.

  ++++++++++++

  The asteroid was a little over 80 million kilometres from earth as it angled through the solar system. It was chasing earth for a short while, speeding up slightly under the pull of Earth’s gravity, but overall falling behind as it cut across the earth’s orbit. Freedom One took eight hours of travel to reach it, stopping abruptly at its designated location to have the crew grin at one another with the excitement of their achievement.

  Joyce proudly placed one of the external images up onto the main displays on the facing wall. “One Near Earth Asteroid, designation 2004 AV122,” she told them, grinning as she confirmed that Freedom One had slotted into the same trajectory as the asteroid, and was moving with it across the plane of the solar system.

  They watched it, each one’s thoughts on the task ahead.

  “Matt, one of our probes please,” Frankie requested.

  “Coming up,” Matt answered, and called one to the front of his screen to point it towards the asteroid before sending it off to do its task.

  Freedom One watched the missile slide soundlessly away, seconds later impacting into the asteroid, its explosion providing added information regarding its constitution.

  “Did that tell us anything?” Frankie asked.

  “Water and mixed metals. Nickel, certainly,” Matt confirmed as the spectrograph analysis returned a finding.

  “Ok, let’s watch it for a while to confirm any rotation that may hurt us, we’ll then move in to a working distance,” Frankie confirmed.

  “Do you want the satellites released?” Joyce asked. There were five that would provide full cover of the surface of the asteroid, helping them record and measure it in detail while ensuring no communication blind-spots on the surface.

  “Not yet,” Frankie told her, still watching the monitor. “Let’s just watch it for the moment,” he told her, unable to express his worries in any detail. This, after all, was earth’s first contact with a completely alien body, one not sanitised by burning hotly through earth’s atmosphere. Who was to say there wasn’t a space-worm just waiting to swallow them all?

  “Earth has finally found us,” Matt told them.

  “That was quick,” Ricky observed grudgingly.

  “I suspect they had at least one observatory watching the asteroid,” Matt shrugged. “It would have come close enough to have a lot of people nervous,” he explained for the benefit of Frankie and the other travellers.

  “Think of the job we’re going to be saving them,” Maddy grinned. “They’ll be able to use binoculars to see it soon.”

  ++++++++++++

  By chance rather than design, Pierre was alerted to the events in space through a series of emails that came across his monitor, exclamation points marking each as urgent. He held his hand up as his secretary rushed in, her normal complexion bleached to white by the seriousness of the information. The details were replicated in the emails he was receiving from the member states of the UNSA, together with paragraphs of ‘advice’ that he was clearly intended to follow.

  “Get me the committee delegates please, one by one,” he asked her. A personal call was called for in this case, and the first call was soon ringing.

  ++++++++++++

  Samuel had just finished his daily review with the Korean maintenance crews when his tablet alerted him to an incoming call.

  Glancing at the caller-ID, he flicked it towards the nearest wall monitor and nodded a greeting towards the bearded man at the other end of the video connection.

  “Samuel Jenkins? I am Pierre Moulier, Assistant General-Secretary to the United Nations Space Authority,” he pronounced.

  “Mr Moulier. Good of you to get in touch with us,” Samuel nodded.

  “I am contacting you in regard to one of your craft having recently moved towards a near-earth asteroid. We’re unsure of what your purpose is, but wanted to ensure you are aware of the limits the treaty imposed upon its signatories.”

  “That is very kind of you. Although we are obviously aware of the new treaty, who isn’t? Our authorities have yet to inform us of the detail,” Samuel pointed out.

  “I can send you a copy,” Pierre offered.

  “That’s also very kind of you, Mr Moulier, but I think my organisation will demand the instructions in writing, and properly distributed through our own organisational structure,” Samuel told the man.

  “I shall follow this up with our staff to ensure the documents are correctly distributed. However, in the meantime, I would request that the ARC cease all further development and research programs.”

  “I will pass your request on to my management. Good day, Mr Moulier.”

  ++++++++++++

  Pierre sat at his desk looking at the monitor, the video link closing after a few moments of inactivity. He reviewed the meeting and frowned, unhappy with the non-committal responses he had received.

  It boded ill, and in real terms there was little he could do to bring them to book other than persevere with his tactic of frequent reminders of their responsibilities.

  He called for his secretary and created a short list of documents for her. “Involve the team. I want them all independently asking the ARC for details from this list. They are free to add to it, but such requests must be repeated twice a day until it is supplied,” he instructed.

  He would wear them down, and through they were small requests, they were the forerunners of more significant requests, by which time he hoped they had succumbed to the habit of providing what the UNSA asked for.

  ++++++++++++

  “Michael?” Heather murmured.

  He turned to look at her, blinking to bring her into focus. “Heather? Is everything alright?” he asked. He had been wandering the St Giles-with-St Peter’s church cemetery, a peaceful place ordinarily. He had been sitting on one of the benches, enjoying the peace, when something within him had drawn his attention to the nearest headstone. He recognised the name and pulled his eyes away, only to have his eyes settle on another headstone and another familiar name. The peace he had felt fractured, and the headstones crowded in, every name recognised as a friend or colleague, a family member, a loved one, all there because he had failed them.

  She nodded and pulled her lips into a smile. “Look. Our daughter,” she told him, holding an image from her recent scan.

  Michael gasped and stared at it. “A girl!” he murmured breathlessly.

  “She’s perfect,” Heather told him, tears spilling onto her cheeks.

  “Perfect,” he repeated.

  “I was thinking about names,” she told him, watching him stroke the image, a finger following the contours of the baby’s head.

  “Names. What were you thinking of?” he asked, turning to look at her, a face of old, the haggard look momentarily gone.

  “I thought, Wendy-Claire,” she whispered timidly. The name Wendy, because that had been the name of his first wife, and it shouldn’t hurt him every time he heard it, and Claire because th
at had been the name of Professor Rolle’s wife, needlessly killed by those seeking information on the ARC’s lifting ability.

  “Wendy-Claire,” he repeated cautiously, in case the images of headstones returned to torment him. “Wendy-Claire,” he repeated. “Wendy-Claire,” yet again, this time with still more energy as the scan of their baby daughter held sway over his demons. A reason to look forward, not back. A thread to grasp at, and hope to pull him from his depths of despair.

  Michael looked up at her and smiled, tears sliding down his cheek. “A perfect name,” he agreed, and reached out to embrace her, weeping on her shoulder, any sounds he may have made drowned out by Heather’s own unrestrained crying.

  ++++++++++++

  Samuel felt unable to catch up with his own schedule as he hurried towards his next task. The ARC still travelled through outer-space and maintenance still needed to be carried out. It still carried over 200 souls, each needing to be fed at regular intervals. They still produced waste, and more than ever, they produced a tremendous amount of electronic communication.

  He entered the rear of the auditorium and strode down the empty corridor at the back of the stage, nodding to the Korean standing at its edge and stopping as the man held out an arm and spoke rapidly in his mouth-piece.

  The lights in the auditorium dimmed, and fresh lights were brought up on the stage. The Korean stage-manager nodded and lowered his arm.

  Samuel walked out, a hand held in both greeting and a request for the audience’s attention, and the student body of the Rolle College brought their discussions to a premature end and gave the black skinned man their attention.

  “Some of you will already be aware through the earth press that the management of the ARC is to change, and as a result, the Rolle College will be relocating to a new college building in Cambridge, on the ground that was once the Cambridge University farm.”

  Samuel stopped and raised his hand as his announcement caused a wave of muttering to fill the hall.

  “Please,” he called, waiting for their full attention. “I appreciate this comes as a shock and will require some time and thought to consider, but at the moment, I need you all to understand; this college facility will close. Therefore, students must be transported back to earth.

  “So, from tomorrow, all classes are suspended until further notice. Please remain in contact through your tablets, and keep reading the bulletins we publish through the intranet site. We will publish a schedule for your return to earth but, for security reasons, we cannot advise you beforehand where exactly you will be dropped off, or when. However, we will make every endeavour to drop you off close to your homes.”

  “What if we want to stay on board?” called one of the students.

  Samuel shook his head. “That’s not an option,” he told them.

  “What are you doing about the testing?” another shouted.

  “Testing?” Samuel looked perplexed.

  A student near the front stood up. “Gary Falkner, Astrophysics and Mathematics,” he called. “The Howard twins were going to have fifty students come up to help carry out further tests on their compound,” he explained.

  Samuel nodded, reminded of it, and its cancellation as the signing of the outer-space treaty had stopped all formal transport between the earth and the ARC. “The tests were cancelled,” he confirmed.

  The student held his arms out and looked about him for agreement. “We’re here, and as of tomorrow we have nothing to do,” he pointed out. He began to grin as those around him called agreement.

  “We need at least fifty. Are there fifty of you willing to help out?” Samuel asked.

  He didn’t count, but he would guess every student had risen to offer themselves.

  ++++++++++++

  “Samuel!” Sally Locke called, running after him as she saw him exit the chapel on board the ARC.

  He stopped to let her catch up with him, enquiring politely after her health as he moved towards his next appointment.

  “I don’t know if this is of interest or not,” she confided, “but our network of earth-analysis satellites are picking up details of an imminent ROSCOSMO launch.”

  Samuel’s pace slowed down as he digested the news. “Do we know what its mission goal is?” he asked.

  “Just that it’s a manned mission,” she told him. “But, with the ISS gone, and the Chinese space-lab empty, I can’t see what they would want, other than to get on board the ARC early,” she suggested.

  “How imminent is imminent?” he asked.

  “A day or so, I suspect,” Sally shrugged. Her experience was in the building of the satellites and not their launching, and although she knew something of the technology, trying to calculate the launch schedule of a third party was very much a guesstimate.

  “Good. I’ll talk to Allan and see what we can do,” Samuel promised.

  ++++++++++++

  The twins didn’t do ‘socialising’. They’d never really learnt the skills, although they had tried to. Attempts to individually chat-up girls during their late teens came to mind, along with memories of intense awkwardness and embarrassment following their failure.

  For this reason, they stepped into Michael’s room somewhat cautiously and nervously, often glancing towards one another as they tried to anticipate the etiquette of the moment.

  “He won’t bite!” Heather told them in an exasperated tone, pointing to the chairs she’d obtained, just for them.

  “What exactly is wrong with him?”

  “When will he get better?”

  “He’s exhausted,” Heather explained, moving round to sit on Michael’s other side.

  Michael stirred and, seeing Heather, smiled gently.

  “David and Thomas have come round to see you,” she told him, smiling down at her exhausted partner.

  He turned and, seeing them, licked his lips in nervous agitation. “You’re all right, aren’t you?” he asked.

  The twins glanced at each other, Michael’s agitation communicating to them. “Sure,” they told him.

  “So, what are you both up to?” Heather asked with an attempt at lightness.

  They shrugged. “We and the professors and are doing what we can to test the liquid crystal hybrid of HYPORT. Of course, it takes much longer, with just the five of us,” they told him.

  “The ferry lifted, didn’t it?” Heather prompted.

  “Yes, the ferry lifted early from Glasgow,” they told him.

  “Early?” Michael asked.

  “Allan’s idea, in case the authority had other ideas, especially since the treaty was due to be signed.”

  “The Outer-Space Treat got signed?” Michael asked, his voice rising slightly.

  “Yes. Overwhelmingly, apparently,” one of the twins told him while the other nodded agreement. “That’s why the Rolle College is returning to earth,” they explained.

  “Returning to earth,” Michael muttered, and licked his lips, his eyes taking on that far-away look as they lost focus, his attention turning inwards once again.

  “The Vice Chancellor says the government has a large laboratory for us to run,” they explained, somewhat haltingly as Heather leant back to be out of Michael’s line of sight and shook her head towards them, mouth working silently as she tried telling them something without Michael knowing.

  “Gone,” Michael murmured in barely a whisper.

  “I think Michael’s tired once again. I think you should go now,” she told the twins as they looked at her in confusion.

  “Gone,” Michael muttered, lifting his head to bring it down sharply onto the pillow once more, repeating it every few seconds while Heather showed the twins out.

  ++++++++++++

  Freedom One came to a gradual stop one kilometre from the asteroid and opened its front doors.

  “You’re green” Frankie called to the SUV while a monitor on the facing wall showed an image from within the vehicle where the three occupants were intent on their monitors, features lit from the soft reflec
tive light of their screens.

  The control-room watched the SUV rise, and move forward, out of the doors and down towards the asteroid.

  “No risks,” Frankie murmured to them as he watched the smooth path of the SUV towards its goal.

  “No risk,” Peter confirmed as the SUV came to a stop 20 metres from the large piece of rock.

  “Laser imaging turned on,” Peter murmured, concentrating on his screen as he waited for the early beginnings of a map to appear.

  “Yes, OK, move forward on this heading to the far end of the asteroid,” he murmured as the laser completed a 3 metre length of surface 50 centimetres in breadth.

  Those in Freedom One saw the map slowly extend as the movement of the SUV across the surface of the asteroid provided the laser with further details of its surface.

  “What do the colours represent, Peter?” Frankie asked as the continued mapping added tones to different areas that the laser had passed over.

  “We’re using spectrography with the lasers. We’re now able to determine some of the characteristics of the surface over which the laser is measuring. It’s not detailed, but it’s enough to describe ice, solid rock or dust, and in some cases, the nature of the rock,” he explained.

  October 18th.

  Samuel was at the ARC’s surgery first thing in the morning, smiling and nodding and asking for a short time alone with their ailing master.

  Heather was still asleep, a sleep aided by some light sleeping tablets, and so Samuel strode into Michael’s room, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Gail occasionally ‘glanced’ in through one of the monitors and could see Samuel sitting down leaning forward to talk earnestly with Michael, but there was no agitated body movement or loud voices, so she let them be.

  Heather woke up about an hour later and rubbed her eyes before stretching. “How’s Michael?” she asked, seeing Gail at her desk.

  “Fine. Quiet in fact. Samuel’s in there talking to him,” she explained.

  Heather rose to glance at the monitor for a few moments but, like Gail, couldn’t see what they were discussing, let alone how it was affecting Michael, if at all. On a second monitor were Michael’s vital signs, none of them showing any cause for concern. On a third monitor she could see an image from the ferry showing an SUV moving with infinite slowness across the surface of the nearby asteroid.