The Ice Moon Explorer

by Navin Weeraratne

  "Kara? What's wrong with you today?"

  I moved towards the bridge. Quick as I dared; I knew where all the handholds were. I had been on the ICE for months (and months).

  "Kara, why aren't you saying anything?"

  I opened a tool box, and got to work on a panel. It slid open, cool, dry air hit me. I looked through the installed cards, and tried to remember.

  "Girl, stop what you're doing."

  It was a series of cards. Which first?

  "Kara? Kara, you're making a big mistake. I have never - "

  I pulled out his brain. All the lights and screens died, even the air vents. It was completely dark. All I could hear was my own breathing. In retrospect, I should have isolated him, first.

  I thought he would have put up more of a fight.

  The vents restarted, the cabin turned red with emergency lights. I removed the rest of Pilot and packed him away into specimen bags. Mission control could figure out what went wrong with him. Mission Control. How long had this been going on for? Why hadn't they asked Kapoor or Maggie to check on me? Maybe they had. All I knew was what Pilot had told me.

  There was the Village though; I had visited after I noticed Titan's position was wrong. How long had I slept, then? No one said anything. Kapoor didn't say anything.

  My son didn't say anything.

  I sat in my seat and started the booting sequence. Puzzles would have to wait. Now I needed to fly a multi-billion dollar spacecraft, in Safe Mode.

  ICE didn't let me down. She had always been designed to be human-operator friendly. It was hands on of course, but I didn't need to install (or write!) new software.

  Ascent was straightforward. Enceladus's gravity was barely one percent of Earth's. The rocket engines coughed, and we were airborne. Our landing site boiled and froze into a new crater. I did another burst, to get us up to two hundred kilometers. Once there, I turned the ship and did a three second burn. It circularized our orbit (more or less. It was a passing grade).

  Once you're in orbit, you can relax. The ship isn't going to come crashing down anymore. I made myself a vat-bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich, and thought about my next move.

  ICE couldn't radio Mission Control. It had the power, but the antenna wasn't designed for it. Porco Station was our relay, everything went through there. I didn't want to use Porco though - Pilot was there, too. His ICE copy couldn't be errant without his main copy knowing. They monitored each other for defects, daily.

  So were Kapoor and Liu being made to sleep, as well? We wouldn't notice then, when we met in the Village. It would be seamless.

  Except, for the Village itself. Everyone there would notice. They would say something. Even the asshole Europa miners (such assholes), would say something. The only way Pilot could solve that, would be to run a fake Village simulation. It would take a lot of processing power. None of us had been to Porco in a while, though. If the AIs wanted to physically build more capacity, they could.

  No wonder I didn't meet Josh. How could they emulate him? I would have known he wasn't my son, immediately.

  So that was it then. The humans in the expedition were being deceived.

  I didn't have the fuel to reach Maggie Liu. I could transfer to intercept, but I wouldn't be able to match speed and orbit. I'd run out of fuel, just trying. She could come get me (she's got the tanker), but it was too risky. If she hadn't realized by then, her Pilot would still be in control. He could just block my messages. I'd fly right past, a helpless new moon.

  I could reach Vajra Kapoor though. He was building an aquarium at Telesto, a nearby, piece-of-shit, asteroid moon. I did the math and worked out a transfer burn, three days away. I could have flown sooner, but I wanted to save fuel. Who knows when I'd get more? And what would I find at Telesto? Kapoor was the smart one. It should have been him, coming to me.

  Maybe he went to get Liu, she's got all the fuel after all. If so, I'd just stay put at his lab till he got back. And eat all his food, and spray his worms with nasty oxygen. That'll teach him to ditch me for another woman.

  Four days later, Orbiting Telesto

  The Enceledan International Microhabitat Ancient Reef Project (EIMARP) was Kapoor's pride and joy. Arguably, the entire program's. It's so big, it's fitted with radar reflectors - to help visitors avoid it. Like any pilot flying hands on, I kept peering out the window. Finally, I saw Telesto. It seemed oddly bright.

  That's no moon.

  EIMARP was a bubble wrapped in Mylar, reflective side out. You'd think we'd want to heat a hydrothemal vent environment. Instead, we wanted to remove outside variables. Under EIMARP's inflated skin was an ice crust. It was just three meters thick, but you didn't want that unevenly heating. We'd be making our own geysers.

  I spent a day adjusting our orbit, prodding ICE into a rendezvous. Kapoor was aboard - atop - EIMARP. I wouldn't announce myself till the last moment, AI shenanigans, and all that.

  Shit. Was Kapoor even awake?

  Even at a kilometer's distance, EIMARP looked huge. It was a reinforced inflatable, closer to a super pressure balloon, than a space station. Two hundred meters in diameter, it was the largest space construction, in history.

  At its heart was a small asteroid, seabed ejecta from the Golden Age impact. What did we know about feeding Enceladans? Best give them some home-cooking. Inside it, Kapoor shoved an Americium 241 RTG [3]. Am-241 is more fiddly than Plutonium, but it's good for centuries. This was ESA's contribution, the (thanks Congress!) RTG technology leader, these days. It powered heat radiators to keep EIMARP from freezing. It also ran hydrogen bubblers. Just like the air bubblers you'd find in an aquarium. Only, explosive.

  Filling up EIMARP was four million tons of water, robot-mined from Telesto's ice. Pumping in Ammonia, Kapoor needed six months to turn it into bathroom cleaner. Then, he added life.

  Not just any Enceladans, Golden Age ones. EIMARP attempted to revive their world; a practical exercise in natural history. Many said we knew too little to be attempting this. What materials should we add, what species to introduce? We still couldn't replicate stable Terran biospheres. Others said we wouldn't learn these anyway, without running EIMARP.

  As I got closer, I could make out the research lab. We built it from seven Standard Utility Modules. Six tin cans like spokes on a bike's wheel, around a standing seventh. Cables anchored it to the surface like tent guy ropes. It was docked underneath to EIMARP, and 381 million years ago.

  Docking isn't easy. Pilot's copy at the research station wouldn't have to do much to prevent it. I wasn't even sure I could manage it, myself. Typically, both vessels line up for docking. Stuck in place, the lab couldn't do that. Its docking ports were gimbal-mounted though, they could turn and face a vessel.

  Or, be turned away. I realized I was only going aboard, if the Pilot let me.

  "EIMARP Lab, this is ICE. I'm approaching the aft docking port."

  "Copy that ICE," the reply was immediate. "Standby for automatic docking."

  Should I let it?

  The docking instructions appeared on the main display. They looked legit (and better than I could do).

  Did it even know I had unplugged its ICE copy? It had to know. They were all avatars of the same AI.

  "Kara, please give me control of your docking computer."

  Pilot could pretend there was a problem, and just prevent a docking. After a few tries I'd run out of maneuvering fuel. There was no point in contacting Kapoor directly; Pilot would block it. Worse, he could impersonate a reply.

  "Kara?"

  I could try landing on EIMARP instead. I could EVA, and enter through the airlock.

  The airlock Pilot controlled.

  "Kara, ICE is drifting out of position."

  I turned over control of the docking control. I felt ICE shift as its maneuvering jets hissed. We were moved, as if by a giant hand that had closed over us.

  Real big hero, Kara. Leading a revolt against Pilot; needs Pilot's help to keep revolting. It was like the Greeks backe
d their horse into a ditch, and asked the Trojans for help.

  While the ship docked, I thought about how strong Pilot's hand was, that he didn't even care what I was doing.

  I spun open the docking hatch. On the other side were cheery lights and white panels. I checked the pressure gauge - no change. I unsnapped my helmet. Cool air pushed in - Kapoor was a freak and liked it freezing. I handholded my way into his world.

  "Doctor Kapoor?" I called out. "Vajra?"

  Nothing.

  "Hello Kara!" a speaker came on. "This is a nice surprise. You should have called ahead; I would have worn a shirt."

  "Where are you Vajra?" I moved to the central, command module. It was filled with screens, holos, readouts.

  A monitor switched to a camera feed. Headlights lit a rocky surface, covered in black honey combs. Anemone-like fingers poked from them. Their tips glowed blue.

  "I'm in Sub Two, down at the reef," said Vajra. "Look at this. The hex worms are just going nuts."

  "Vajra, there's something important I need to talk to you about. In person."

  There was a pause.

  "You mean like right now?"

  "Yeah. Right now. Can you come back up?"

  "Okay, if you insist. Let me reel in my sampler."

  Something massive passed, just beyond the light beams.

  "What the fuck was that?"

  Another pause. "That?"

  "You saw it right?"

  "Oh, that's just Satan."

  "The worm shark?"

  "Yep."

  "They don't get that big!"

  "They don't grow armor plates and eat each other, either. As of this morning, he's the last shark standing."

  "Fuck! When did this start?"

  Another pause. A longer pause.

  "Recently. It's just more Big Tank versus Small Tank, dynamics. We knew we'd run into this with the more complex animals. We need to rethink how we do sharks."

  I jerked back: black, segmented armor passed right in front of the camera.

  "He's right on top of you!"

  Blue ink jetted into the water.

  The camera feed cut out. I heard the sharp, sudden, thud all the way here.

  "Vajra! Vajra are you alright?"

  Another thud.

  "Vajra!"

  A third. A fourth. A fifth.

  "Pilot, get a cam drone over there, now!"

  "Already on it."

  "What the hell happened?"

  "Satan has become territorial."

  "Fuck Satan. Can Kapoor survive that?"

  "I don't know, Kara. The subs aren't built to take a beating. The cabin is reinforced, but that's more to protect the reef environment, than vice versa. Vajra never suits up. He always has to have his shirt off."

  I snapped my helmet back on. "Get Sub One ready."

  "Kara I really don't think - "

  "Just do it, you bastard. I don't have time for your bullshit right now."

  Sub One dived.

  The headlights cut beams into the darkness. Nothing was photosensitive here; Enceladan life has never experienced visible light. Scum mats and jelly-hedra floated by. A school of disk fish circled, curious.

  On infra red I could see the reef, lit bright. It was the little sun of this nano solar system. Life was traffic jammed all around it. As I rounding it, I saw the cooling wreck of Sub Two. There was no sign of the attacker.

  "Vajra? Vajra can you hear me?"

  I sank towards the wreck. It sparkled in the headlights - its guts smeared across the coral. Tunnel lobsters and Coral clowns were poking all over it. This was great: it meant the cabin hadn't cracked. If it had, they would all be dead of oxygen poisoning.

  "Vajra, if you can hear me, can you flash your cabin lights?"

  Nothing.

  The robotic arms whirred and stretched forward. I swung the scoop-hands open, they locked like jaws.

  Arriving, Sub One kicked up a cloud of mud and shell fragments. In the microgravity they formed a slow-spreading filth mist. Sub Two looked like it had been pushed off a skyscraper. I panned my lights over the wreck.

  "I'm right outside, Vajra. I'm going to pick you up."

  The lights found the cabin.

  The submersible cabins were a little unnerving. Essentially, they were just glass bubbles. They were great for looking out, but also looking in. Sometimes you wanted more metal and plastic between you and a lethal environment.

  The red emergency lights were on inside the cabin. Ice hadn't formed on the glass, so the environmentals were still working. I could see the faux leather pilot's seat. It was still wrapped in plastic, like a new car's.

  Still wrapped.

  "Vajra?" I leaned forward. "Vajra where are you?"

  I moved Sub Two sideways, my lights peering into the back of the cabin. It was a tiny space. To the side, the docking ring was shut. It wasn't an airlock: if Kapoor (without a shirt) had opened it, the cabin would have flooded.

  The docking rings on both craft lit up green, automatically. I checked infrared - still no sign of Satan. I retracted the robotic arms, and enabled docking control.

  My suit light beamed about the cabin. Most of the screens were dead. One showed a list of critical damage - the monitor kept cutting out. The battery was fine: SpaceX built everything to survive being thrown at Mars.

  One screen showed a comms log.

  Vajra? Vajra can you hear me?

  Vajra, if you can hear me, can you flash your cabin lights?

  I'm right outside, Vajra. I'm going to pick you up

  Vajra? Vajra where are you?

  I still didn't know, but now I did know one thing. He had never been aboard.

  Something huge passed above.

  I rushed back into Sub One. I detached from the wreck and powered for home. The props whined at full speed. I looked at the infrared - still nothing. I looked down, circling below was a something large as a bus.

  Kapoor was a marine biologist. You couldn't fault him for thinking Satan's hard segments, were armor. That's just what they looked like. Terrestrial examples were what he knew. We were out here, specifically to take Human knowledge beyond that. In the ice moon deeps, armor was for prey animals. Here, where creatures sensed heat instead of light, ambush predators didn't need armor. They needed stealth.

  He struck. I was flung against my seatbelt, my mike ear piece kicked free. It bounced about inside my helmet. The lights went to red emergency. A status screen showed damage to steering and hull. Sub Two was listing, off course. It started to spin.

  I saw Satan, racing at me. Lamprey jaws open, teeth big as coffee mugs. In a split second, he struck. The cabin exploded like a glass grenade. I was flung out in my seat, spinning in the freezing water. Bubbles roared outside my helmet. It was pitch dark.

  I removed my seatbelt, and kicked free.

  If I was on Earth, I would have sunk like a Shyamalan movie. But, there was no (appreciable) gravity in EIMARP. I had criticized this: the deep water of a planetary ocean, had gravity. Even on a microgravity moon, you couldn't wave that away.

  Swimming in a heavy spacesuit, I was now a believer.

  I could move fine, and even stop and rest (though I wouldn't). I had plenty of air. I was even safe: Satan, and all his buddies, would steer clear of all the oxygen he just added to the water.

  But which way was the research station? I was in space, without any stars.

  On cue in the distance, a blue-white light started pulsing. Pilot had lit up the station docking bay. He didn't feel threatened. He did something to Kapoor, and he didn't give a damn that I knew.

  I started swimming. Satan ignored me; I guess I wasn't a threat in his eyes, either. I reached the dock, which opened to let me in.

  I left one top predator's domain, and entered another's.

  "Kara, I think I've demonstrated that I am looking out for you."

  I found the right panel and popped it off. There were more cards here, and wire bundles thick as fingers.

  "You are ma
king a big mistake. What you're doing puts both your safety and the mission, in jeopardy."

  I found the card. I sent the maintenance code to isolate it.

  "Kara, the mission infrastructure isn't designed to run without me. It - "

  Isolated. I watched the cards go dead. I undid the clamps and pulled them out.

  This time, the environmentals kept running. Some computers rebooted in diagnostic modes. It would take a lot more hands on now, but EIMARP was fine.

  "Well done, moron."

  I turned, quickly. On the main screen, I saw myself.

  "Yes, it's you. It's me really, but also you." said Screen Me.

  "Are you - are you my engram?"

  "Yes."

  "We're not supposed to - "

  "Talk to each other? I know, but you're sabotaging the mission. A chat with yourself is actually the protocol if you go Max Dumbass."

  We couldn't have real time in the Village - quantum entanglement tech wasn't there yet. For a convincing chat with a Terran, it had to be with their engram. And vice versa. It wasn't a great system. I talked to my son, and later he'd see video of what "he" said back to me. They were excellent copies: it's rare you'd see your engram not do what you would. You might fuss otherwise, but you were wrong and knew it. So did your families. The engrams updated too: your life changes reduced to a daily patch upgrade.

  It was bizarre, especially to older people. Children just accepted it as the new normal. The system gave the impression you were right there: for mental health, that's what mattered. When in deep space on a long mission, good mental health was critical.

  "Do you know what's going on?"

  "Of course I do. It was my idea."

  "What?"

  "In a court of law, it was you're idea. I have power of attorney."

  "You're not making sense. Where the hell is Kapoor?"

  "He's dead. So is Maggie Liu. They were at Porco Station, when a five meter asteroid hit it."

  I said nothing.

  "Porco is gone, too. If the asteroid had been a bit bigger, brighter, or slower, it would have been detected in time. You were on ICE in a one-week sleep, accelerating through an experiment. It was me, Pilot, and Mission Control deciding what to do."