The Triton Disaster: Hard Science Fiction

by Brandon Q Morris

“How many of you were there?”

  “In the end there were twelve of us. Eight men and four women. A few robots, but they had to stay outside.”

  Of course, if a dozen people sweating in their spacesuits for the entire working day had spent half a year here, there was nothing left of the new car smell. But that wasn’t a problem. Nick couldn’t have been an astronaut if he’d had a problem with unpleasant odors. He’d already faced the supreme challenge of having to use a spacesuit somebody had barfed in two days earlier.

  “You twelve hammered this ship together in half a year? Not bad.”

  “All we had to do was assemble the individual modules that Vostotchny sent us. We actually spent a lot of the time waiting. It got a little hectic in the end, though, when it was clear they’d found a pilot.”

  “Ah, I’m sorry. Perhaps I should have taken more time deciding?”

  “That was okay. It was only about testing by then. So, we had to test several modules at the same time instead of doing each one separately. Shostakovna really pushed for this.”

  “But you’re through with everything?”

  “Yes, don’t worry. The Eve is perfectly prepared to go wherever you take her.”

  Valentina had told him not to talk to anyone about his mission. In the lower hierarchies of RB, people knew nothing except that there was going to be a four-year journey. Anyone who had access to the loading lists could find that much out, anyway. Maybe his Russian colleague was hoping for a clue, but he wouldn’t be able to oblige.

  “Thank you, tovarishch.”

  “It was truly a pleasure. Please bring my Eve back undamaged. I would like to test her on a flight to Mars. Imagine, she could shorten the travel time to just under four weeks.”

  “If you can afford it.”

  “That’s true. Well… perhaps it’s time I give you a little guided tour.”

  Okay, this is my little kingdom, Nick thought. Satisfied, he stretched his legs and looked around. Everything he needed was within reach—computer controls in front, and a large screen for movies and TV shows. All of it was voice-operated, of course. He could even eat in his recliner chair when he folded the table out from the armrest. It was a lot like first-class seating in a modern airliner, except that there was an automatic system instead of a stewardess.

  Rattling noises came from behind him. It was Taras cleaning up his things before leaving. Nick figured he’d be alone in half an hour. He pushed himself up and floated to the ceiling, turned around, and then pulled himself forward. At the same moment Taras floated into the command module. They just managed to avoid colliding.

  “I have something for you,” he said. “Here. We almost forgot.” He held out a disk-shaped device.

  Oscar! Nick had almost forgotten the little cleaning robot. “Ah, yes. My cleaning sprite,” he said.

  “We could have used something like that here.”

  Nick pressed the power button. A few lights lit up and Oscar spun his wheels. In zero gravity, he didn’t move forward.

  “He wouldn’t have been of much help to you,” Nick said.

  The device beeped annoyingly. A flap at the top opened and a long arm emerged, obviously looking for something to hold on to. The four fingers grasped a ledge and then released it with a flick so that the robot sailed in the direction of the kitchen module, like a discus.

  “I was wrong,” Nick said. “But he doesn’t seem to have a visual system.”

  “No, he orients himself using radar. We have an Oscar at home,” said Taras. “But I didn’t realize he was capable of so much.”

  “Valentina gave it to me.”

  “Straight from the boss? Then maybe you have a special model. Congratulations!”

  “Thanks.”

  “This is my cue to go. You’ve got it all under control?”

  “I guess so, thanks to you and your thorough tour!”

  Taras reached for his helmet, then floated in the direction of the airlock. Nick followed him, as it seemed polite to escort him out. The lock was already open and Taras climbed in, then closed the door behind himself. Over the radio, he wished Nick a nice flight.

  “Same to you. And give my regards to your wife, even though I don’t know her. What’s her name? Tell her I’m very grateful to her for not letting you fly.”

  Taras laughed. “Her name’s Raissa. Gladly. She’ll be happy to hear it.”

  Nick’s eyes went wide and he could feel himself blushing. Luckily, Taras couldn’t see him anymore. But surely it was a coincidence. It was, after all, a very popular first name in Russia.

  6/1/2080, the Eve

  “Ignite engine 1,” commanded CapCom.

  Nick followed the launch on the screen, which displayed a diagram of the Eve. The large outer ring showed the filling level of the reaction mass tanks, the inner ring showed the status of the ten DFDs, and inside there was only a white spot. The passenger modules in the center played no role in the Eve’s progress.

  A green light appeared on the display in the inner ring at about two o’clock. That must be DFD 1. Nick didn’t feel anything.

  “Engine 1 is running,” said Yuri over the radio.

  This meant that the nuclear fusion had ignited in the combustion chamber. The DFD was generating electricity, building a strong magnetic field. When reaction mass flowed in, the field would accelerate it and thus propel the Eve. But there was still no reaction mass flowing. Yuri would gradually start up the remaining engines. To reach Triton in two years, all ten had to work.

  “Ignite engine 10,” said Yuri.

  The tenth DFD signaled its successful start with a green signal.

  “You’re ready to go,” said Yuri. “Any last words?”

  “No, I hate that,” Nick said.

  “You’re right. We’ll keep talking every day, even when the signal transit time increases.”

  “I have to talk to you every damn day? There’s nothing in my contract about that.”

  “Ha-ha. You skipped the fine print.”

  “Oh, crap. Anything else I don’t know about?”

  “You are committed to singing the Russian national anthem every day at midnight.”

  “I’ll do that anyway. Rossiya—svyashchennaya nasha derzhava, Russia, our holy nation.”

  “That’s enough. You’re a better Russian than I am.”

  Yuri had come to appreciate his humor. They usually spoke a mix of English and Russian, but now, in this official portion, Yuri stuck with his mother tongue. Nick had grown accustomed to it again surprisingly quickly.

  “Engines are running steadily,” said Yuri. “Starting influence of the reaction mass. It’s been nice, buddy.”

  Nick checked his safety belt. Microgravity would soon increase to Mars levels. He hoped Yuri had stowed everything properly, though apart from a few dishes, he hadn’t actually taken anything out of the cupboards. The Eve had been set into motion. Finally, it was starting. He could feel the pressure increasing, and the gravity felt even stronger than it did on Earth, yet this was just a misperception. The zero gravity had made him more sensitive.

  The ship accelerated first at a speed 1.1 times that of Earth’s gravity, then eased off to the equivalent gravity of Mars. He could handle this for two years. The colonists on Mars had to live with it from birth to death. A piece of black cloth came floating towards him. His underwear? It must have gotten into the front part of the command module somehow. It was time for Oscar to do some tidying. But a little bit of fabric would do no harm.

  “Feels good, no unusual incidents,” reported Nick.

  “I certainly hope so.” Yuri’s voice was as clear as if he had been sitting right next to him. The Eve moved as though in slow motion. In other space flights he had experienced stronger acceleration phases, so the awareness of movement had felt more intense. But this is how it was when an engine didn’t run for just a few furious seconds, but continuously. Everything felt unreal. But soon the Eve would actually be in a faster orbit than any other artificial object
.

  And what if all this were just a test, a big conspiracy to find out how a single human coped with four years of solitude? That thought was a bit of pure paranoia. He had seen the ship with his own eyes, from the outside. This wasn’t a ‘Potemkin village.’

  Nick put the image from the rear camera on the screen. It showed Earth’s sphere in all its beauty. The ship was still moving so slowly that the Earth seemed like it was nailed firmly in place in outer space. He rotated the camera, which was attached to the end of the last storage module, to view the DFDs. They looked the same as before.

  He wasn’t riding on a blazing streak of fire through the night. The reaction mass was too thin to be able to recognize it in the optical range. He switched to infrared, and immediately the area around the engines was dazzlingly bright. It measured 2,400 Kelvin where the hot, ionized gas was escaping from the DFDs.

  Then he changed all the camera angles. Shouldn’t he be slowly approaching the moon? But Earth’s satellite was not to be found.

  “I can’t see the moon, CapCom,” he said.

  “I’m sorry, it didn’t have time for you. We did our best, but couldn’t set up an appointment. But in a few hours you’ll see it rising from behind the Earth.”

  “So no lunar sightseeing for me?”

  “Not this time around. Please remind me again in four years. Then we’ll set your return route so you can pass the moon from just a hundred kilometers away.”

  “Thanks, Yuri. I’ll try to remember.”

  “Write it on a Post-It and stick it on the wall in the cockpit.”

  “Good idea.”

  He was awakened by a vicious, hissing sound. It reminded him of the noise of air escaping through a small hole in a spacesuit, so he was fully alert in no time. But it was just a top-priority message. The Russians certainly knew how to get an astronaut’s attention. The fact that this specific sound served as a signal was surely no coincidence.

  He had to identify himself to the camera before he could open the message. Then Valentina’s face appeared on the screen. She looked ten years younger than she actually was. There was probably a smoothing filter over the lens. Well, as a company boss she probably had to use every advantage available.

  “I don’t want to send you off without a word or two, Nick. Unfortunately, I could not speak to you personally, so it has to be this recording. I’d like to thank you once again for taking on this assignment. With all my heart, I wish you great success.”

  She gave a forced cough. “There’s one more thing that I forgot in our conversation. Our installation on Triton has a second function that was intended for emergencies. If it seems likely that you won’t be able to accelerate the Starshot probes as planned, I must ask you to activate this second feature. The laser is capable of destroying the probes, each one of them. If my sisters can’t fulfill the duties that my father had planned for them, I want you to spare them a pointless existence, solitary and lonely in space, and have them shot down by the laser.

  “You don’t have to worry. When the probes reach the orbit of Neptune, they still don’t contain any viable cells, just some human DNA, housed in some tardigrades. So you won’t be killing anybody, just preventing human suffering. I know my father wouldn’t have approved such an action. So there are probably a few protection measures that will prevent you from using the laser for this purpose. Be careful, and get around them as necessary. To show my appreciation, I’m increasing your salary by a half-million dollars. And now I wish you blessings for your journey.”

  Valentina’s face disappeared and the screen went black again.

  Nick snorted. He did not like such forgotten details at all. What else had Valentina kept to herself? Did she really not know why the station wasn’t responding anymore? He scratched his temple. Maybe he should use the next two years to prepare thoroughly for Triton.

  He certainly ought to be able to find a few clues outside the RB circles so he wouldn’t fly blindly to his doom.

  6/3/2080, the Eve

  The night before, Nick had felt something like boredom for the first time. Fortunately, he remembered his time in the Marines. The trick was to divide the day into defined units that alternated effort with reward. After getting up in the morning, he took a shower, got dressed, had breakfast—coffee from the food preparation device, along with a kind of cereal that had all the necessary vitamins added—and after that, he brushed his teeth.

  Then it was time to work. He’d run through the craft’s systems based on the existing checklists. A short break, then some exercise. One and a half hours per day in the fitness area was enough, followed by a second shower. By then it was already midday. Nick had no problem with ready-to-eat meals, so that took care of lunch. He started his afternoon by relaxing, watching a video series that he could put on the big screen. The number of productions on board was practically infinite.

  After that he spent 45 minutes a day with a foreign language. He started with Thai, which was fascinating. Then he went back to work. He systematically observed the ship’s surroundings using all its sensors. The universe would not bore him. There was so much variety that he always discovered something new. He’d have dinner at 6 PM and then he was free. Sometimes he’d watch porn, which his employers had supplied as well. But he also liked to play, and with the VR helmet he could sail the Earth or fight through a zombie army.

  This evening, however, he decided to get Oscar working. The disk-shaped cleaning robot had been deactivated and laying in a corner since the launch. He picked up the device, walked to his chair, and sat down. He took Oscar in his lap and pressed the power button. A light flashed and the four wheels started spinning. This seemed to be the startup routine. But nothing else happened. What was going on? Did the robot not feel like cleaning? Or did he have to read the manual first? Was there even a manual? Taras hadn’t told him.

  The thing was supposed to be voice-activated.

  “Oscar?” he ventured.

  “I’m... Oscar,” the robot replied, as if he had to think about what its name was.

  “I know. I’m Nick, your owner.”

  “Ah, you’re Nick. Good to know. And you are my... owner.” It seemed that Oscar was unfamiliar with this word. Maybe he didn’t know what it meant. A cleaning robot didn’t need to know who its owner was. The main thing was for it to clean.

  Nick was still a little disappointed. If Oscar had been a bit smarter, he would have been able to talk to him from time to time, or at least pretend to. Then his voice wouldn’t get rusty. It really would have been ideal if Oscar could have been a conversation partner in Thai. He only needed to learn the dialogues outlined in the learning materials.

  Maybe Oscar is capable of learning at least a few things, he thought. “Oscar, what can you do?”

  “Vacuum, sweep, dust, wash and dry dishes, and tidy up if you teach me the intended location of an item. I automatically detect the nature of the surface and apply the appropriate cleaning technique.”

  “That’s great. So you wouldn’t get a carpet or a computer wet?”

  “That’s correct, Nick.”

  “And what’s up with teaching you the location of items? Are you capable of learning?”

  Oscar was at least able to understand that this was a question, so Nick didn’t have to continually address Oscar by name. With this he was already ahead of the Alexa that Nick had at home.

  “I’m capable of learning. You show me where an object should be, and if you tell me to put it away, I’ll take it to where it belongs if it’s not already there.”

  “That’s clever.”

  “Thanks, Nick.”

  “Why don’t you need an activation word like Alexa?”

  “I’m always listening to you. Plus, I’ve found that I’m the only one that you’d be talking to, since people don’t usually talk to themselves.”

  “So you’re eavesdropping?”

  “In order to tell if you have any new orders for me, this is what I have to do.”

&nbs
p; “Why not do it like Alexa?”

  “Please don’t make comparisons between me and Alexa. I’m much more advanced than she is.”

  “How so?”

  “I can react even if you don’t add ‘Oscar.’”

  “But then you have to eavesdrop on me.”

  “So what? What do you have to hide? Besides, I have a courtesy mode. If I determine that my listening could make you feel embarrassed, like yesterday afternoon when you gratified yourself, I act like Alexa.”

  “You noticed that I—?”

  “I use radar. I don’t miss any movement in these rooms. But I don’t save such footage.”

  “That’s nice, Oscar. But still you remember that I... then next time I’ll have to lock you up in a storage room.”

  “My logbook can’t be deleted for technical reasons. It only contains facts. There aren’t any pictures, sounds, or videos.”

  “Good to know.”

  “Of course. Would you like to know more about me?”

  “Yes, Oscar. Could you memorize dialogues from the Thai textbook so you can quiz me? This would make it so much easier for me to learn the language.”

  “You can simply change my language interface to Thai, and then I’ll speak it with you perfectly.”

  “So the answer is yes?”

  “I believe so.”

  “You believe? You’re the first machine to tell me it believes something.”

  “Well, it’s not a theological belief, just the fact that my understanding of your question may not have been entirely precise, and this is why my answer has some uncertainty.”

  “Ah, I understand.”

  “Excellent. Would you like me to test you on your Thai now?”

  “No, Oscar, I haven’t learned enough yet. Besides, I have free time now.”

  “Don’t you always have free time? As far as I am aware, your assignment doesn’t start until we reach our destination, in the orbit of Triton?”

  Oscar knows the destination? Wasn’t the project supposed to be kept secret? If the cleaning robot already knows about it, it won’t be long before it’s online somewhere.