UMO: A Chilling Tale of First Contact

by K Patrick Donoghue

  “We’re not telling them to turn the spectrometers off. End of discussion,” Pritchard said.

  “Okay, but we should at least tell them about what happened in the experiment,” Morgan argued. “They should at least know the risk of attack if they leave the X-ray equipment on.”

  “Paul, no one wants to risk an attack on Cetus Prime, but these astronauts knew the risks, and they have a mission to fulfill, even if it costs them their lives. That’s the deal they signed up for.”

  As Pritchard walked away, Morgan said, “Yeah, but they took the deal trusting we would have their backs. We should tell Avery. Let him make the call. That’s what he’s there to do.”

  At 1810 UTC, a routine data downlink from Cetus Prime was relayed to Mission Control’s computer system by NASA’s Deep Space Network. As the downloaded data began to populate the screens at each station, Pritchard received a flurry of updates.

  “Flight, CP has initiated a roll,” came the voice of the guidance, navigation and control officer.

  “Roger, Guidance,” Pritchard said.

  Then came an update from the instrumentation and communications officer. “Flight, INCO. CP reporting a pallet sep-fault. It’s Perseus.”

  “EVO here, Flight,” said the extravehicular activity officer. “Crew airlock being prepped for EVA.”

  Pritchard moved to each station to review the new data. Morgan joined him, a printout of Avery’s “beekeeper” message in his hand. At 1822 UTC, the INCO officer said, “CAPCOM. Incoming alert from Commander Lockett.”

  With Pritchard at his side, Morgan returned to his console and opened Avery’s alert.

  “CDR to CC: Be advised. CP pallet incurred sep-fault during attempt to detach Perseus for SYS-CHECK. Initial DNOG inconclusive. Authorized EVA by FE to inspect Perseus dock. Will update after INSPECT complete. CDR out.”

  “Thank God they didn’t try Andromeda first,” Morgan said. He picked up Avery’s earlier message and handed it to Pritchard.

  The mission director read it and crumpled the sheet of paper. As he handed the balled-up message back to Morgan, Pritchard said, “Nice going. You know Ferris is going to see this, if he hasn’t already.”

  Morgan stood and said, “We should tell Avery. With or without Ferris’ blessing, we should tell him, right now.”

  Pritchard glared at him. “Confirm receipt of Avery’s alert. Nothing more.”

  5: FIRST CONTACT

  Cetus Prime

  Flight Deck

  Date: 04.28.1995

  Time: 2011 UTC

  Avery watched Nick examine the clamps that secured Perseus’ struts to its storage platform. On the small screen, it appeared as if Nick had zeroed in on the source of the problem, leading Avery to ask, “How’s it going out there, Nick?”

  “The clamps won’t release for some reason. There’s no damage I can see. No ice, either. Must be a problem with the hydraulics after all,” Nick said.

  “Line’s probably frozen near the clamps,” Avery said.

  “Shouldn’t be. Temp gauge showed fluid was heated,” Nick said.

  “Okay, I’ll go take another look at the actuator and heat pump.”

  “Roger that.”

  Avery unbuckled and removed his headset. As he prepared to leave the flight deck for the pallet control center, he noticed a flash of light pass by the cockpit windows. He blinked and the flash was gone, leaving only the silhouette of Mars surrounded by the black void. Avery mumbled, “Uh-oh.”

  He pressed the intercom button on the center console. “Heads up, folks. Think we have visitors.”

  Christine, already at the pallet control center, saw the lights appear on the monitor before Avery spoke. At impossible speed, they swirled around the pallet…and Nick.

  “Whoa,” Nick said, as three zoomed between his legs.

  Christine gripped her headset and pressed the microphone against her lips. “Hurry! Get to the airlock!”

  She unbuckled from her seat and pushed off the walls to shoot toward the crew compartment airlock.

  As Avery strapped back into the commander’s seat, Nick said over the intercom, “Jesus, I can feel them all around me.”

  A loud thump echoed through the ship. Avery heard Nick let loose a string of expletives just as the ship rolled to the right. The vessel’s automated reaction control system fired thrusters to compensate for the roll. The sound of creaking metal and the buzz from the UMOs could be heard throughout the ship.

  Outside, the UMOs began to whip around the pallet in tight circles, causing the ship to roll in the direction of their rotation. Nick bounced against the pallet girders each time the RCS thrusters tried to steady the ship. Electrical discharges shot out from the spinning UMOs, sending thin bolts of lightning toward the probes, antennas and other instrumentation ringing the pallet. Nick closed his eyes and tried to reach for the fuselage handrail.

  “Nick? Nick? Are you okay?” Christine asked, her hands shaking.

  She heard him utter a growling scream and then a loud pop sounded through her headset.

  “Nick, talk to me!” she said.

  Throughout Cetus Prime’s main cabin, the electrical systems went haywire. Lights and video monitors flickered on and off. Here and there, switches overloaded, shooting out sparks and trails of smoke. Alarms pealed and red buttons flashed.

  Avery switched off computer control of the RCS and manually fired thrusters, trying to shake loose from the forces compelling the ship to roll. The groan of rending metal spiked louder.

  “Hold on,” he called out over the intercom. “Can’t hold it any longer. Either we roll or rip in two.”

  He deactivated the thrusters and the ship bucked to the right. Cetus Prime began to spin. Another loud pop and the ship went dark.

  They tumbled for fifteen minutes after the UMOs departed, but eventually the momentum of the spin abated, leaving Cetus Prime adrift without power. Batting away smoke, Avery fumbled for the flashlight in the emergency pouch attached to his seat. It was pitch dark in the cockpit and Mars was no longer visible through the cockpit windows.

  Through the flight deck hatch, Avery heard Christine coughing. He leaned over and shouted toward the open hatchway, “You okay, Chris?”

  “The whole ship’s dead,” she shouted back, her voice trembling. “What are we going to do?”

  “Is there anything on fire back there?”

  “No. Just smoke.”

  “Thank God for that,” Avery whispered. He found the flashlight and turned it on. Pointing it down through the hatch, he called to Christine, “Can you see my flashlight?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Follow it. We need to restore power; I need your help.”

  “What if we can’t? What are we going to do?”

  “We’ll get her restarted, I’m not worried about that,” Avery said, trying his best to maintain a level tone.

  Christine’s ballcap appeared through the hatch as she mounted the middeck ladder. When her face rose into view, Avery redirected the flashlight to Nick’s copilot seat. “Buckle in.”

  “Oh, my God,” she said. “What about Nick? Is he dead?”

  “I don’t know, but we can’t get him back inside until we have power, so let’s get to it,” he said.

  She glided into the copilot’s seat and tried to strap in, but her hands were shaking so bad she couldn’t snap the buckles. Avery doused the flashlight and reached for her left hand. It was cold and clammy. He squeezed it and said, “Hey, hang in there, okay? We got this.”

  “I’m scared,” she said, returning his squeeze.

  “Me, too, but we have to stay focused. Okay?” Avery said. “I think the UMOs shorted out our power grid. That would’ve tripped circuit breakers in the engine control room. I need to go back there and reset the breakers, then we can try to power up.”

  Christine nodded and released Avery’s hand to finish buckling into the safety harness. When done, she held her hands to her mouth and blew on them. “It’s getting cold.�
��

  “Yeah, I know,” Avery said. Without power, pressurization was dropping in the main cabin, and with it went their source of heat and oxygen. He removed his harness and relit the flashlight. “Be right back.”

  As Avery floated into the laboratory, he shined the flashlight toward the rear of the cabin. The smoke hanging in the air obscured his view, so he clicked off the torch and let his eyes adjust to the darkness. At once, he noticed a faint glow coming through the laboratory and pallet portholes, presumably coming from the sun’s reflection off Mars, giving Avery a sense of their altered orientation. They’d been pushed from their intended course and spun about, away from the sun and Mars.

  He passed from the laboratory into the crew compartment and was thankful to find the smoke thinning out. He listened for sounds of leaks, but the ship was silent, save for the creaking of the ship’s hull. He looked to his right and spotted the crew-cabin airlock. Avery thought of Nick and wondered if he was alive and still attached to his tether, so violent had been the spinning.

  Reaching the engine control room, Avery pulled open the main circuit breaker box. To his relief, all of the breakers had been tripped. As he toggled them to their “on” positions, he heard the hum of devices beginning to restart. The cabin lights also began to flicker and the ventilation system kicked in. In the distance, he heard Christine shout, “Yes!”

  There were ancillary circuit breakers in each cabin that would need to be reset, but before addressing those, Avery wanted communications restored. He propelled himself back toward the flight deck and called out to Christine, “Chris, open the circuit breaker panel above the center console. Flip all the switches on. Give me a shout when you’re done.”

  Seconds later, she shouted back, “Done.”

  Avery pressed the intercom button on the nearest control panel. “Nick? Nick? Can you hear me, Nick?”

  There was no answer. Avery pushed off the wall and floated back to the pallet porthole. Nick was not visible. As he moved to check the airlock window, he heard Christine’s voice over the intercom. “Cameras are back online. He’s still out there! I can see him!”

  “Where?” Avery asked.

  “He’s under the pallet. His tether is wrapped around CPO,” she said.

  Avery spun and propelled his body to the pallet control center. On the video monitor, he spotted the same view Christine described. Nick was bobbing against the underside of the pallet beneath CPO’s platform. His suit and helmet appeared intact, but given Nick’s distance from the camera, it was hard to be certain. Avery checked his watch. Nick had been outside for just under an hour, meaning he had five hours of oxygen left if his tanks were undamaged.

  “Okay, I see him, too,” Avery said. “Check the bio-monitor. Does he have vitals?”

  “Monitor’s not working.”

  “Copy that,” Avery said. “I’m going to suit up and go out and get him.”

  “You want help?”

  “No. I need you to go through each compartment and get the rest of the circuit breakers back on,” Avery said. “And see if we have comms with Goddard.”

  The two-hour-long wait inside the airlock was maddening, but necessary for Avery to rid his body of nitrogen and adapt to the pure oxygen he would breathe in his suit and the lower air pressure he would experience in space. During the delay, he had Christine perform diagnostic checks on the ship’s core systems, asking her to relay updates after each evaluation. In addition to providing him with critical information, Avery hoped the tasks would settle her nerves.

  To Avery, Christine’s reports painted a hopeful picture. The ship appeared to have survived the UMO attack with minimal damage, though a more extensive damage assessment would be necessary to obtain a full picture of their situation. They had main cabin power and life support, but the ship’s engines were out and they only had partial thruster control. In addition, several of their pallet instruments were inoperable, including their primary antenna for communicating with NASA.

  Christine’s report about the instrumentation confirmed Avery’s own visual observations. Before entering the airlock, he had scrutinized the pallet on the video monitor in the control center. There, he saw the jagged remains of several instruments, damage Avery judged as more of an inconvenience than a crisis. They had backups for the most critical instrumentation and work-arounds for others.

  The most immediate concern was Nick’s status. He still had not responded to any of their queries and he’d shown no signs of movement. In addition, when the bio-monitoring system finally came back online, Christine had informed him that Nick’s readings were all flatlined.

  Avery was not surprised. However, the news didn’t mean Nick was dead. It was possible the barrage of electrical discharges from the UMOs had disabled the bio-monitor electrodes in the bodysuit Nick wore underneath his spacesuit. He might just be unconscious.

  Of course, it was more likely that Nick was dead, either from a direct jolt from the UMOs or from a puncture in his suit or helmet during the ship’s high-speed spin. But until proven otherwise, Avery was holding out hope Nick was still alive.

  Once the oxygenation and depressurization process was complete, Avery cranked open the airlock door and secured his tether to the handrail running alongside Cetus Prime’s fuselage, just as Nick had done. He was tempted to use his SAFER thrusters to speed his spacewalk to reach Nick but decided to preserve the emergency thruster’s fuel in case the UMOs returned. As he headed for the pallet, Avery inspected the ship’s hull for damage. Save for the damaged instrumentation he’d already observed, he saw none.

  Arriving at the pallet, Avery pushed off the fuselage and grabbed hold of the railing along the outer girder closest to Nick. He called out again to Nick as he neared his dangling body. Still no reply. Nick’s tether was wrapped tight around the feet of the CPO probe and there was no way Avery could untangle it while it was still attached to Nick. This meant unclipping Nick from the line and attaching him to Avery’s line, making the return to the airlock an awkward venture. Avery deemed it manageable if he used the SAFER thrusters to propel them most of the way. He reached and grabbed hold of Nick’s arm. “Got you, buddy.”

  Nick’s limp arm complied with Avery’s tug, but there was no other response from the stricken astronaut. As he readied to spin Nick around to examine his helmet and DCM life-support display, Avery said a quick prayer. Then, with a light pull, he spun Nick’s body to face him.

  Avery exhaled a sigh of relief when the helmet visor came into view. Though Nick’s face was not visible through his golden solar shield, the helmet’s glass was uncracked. And his suit appeared to be functioning, as indicated by the working DCM’s gauges and LED lights.

  Hope surged inside Avery. It was impossible to tell if Nick was still alive, but at least his suit was feeding him oxygen and heat. Avery wasted no further time. With Nick now fastened on his tether, Avery held on to him with one arm and fired the SAFER thrusters with the other.

  “On my way back,” Avery said.

  “Roger that,” Christine said. “Is he alive?”

  “Don’t know yet. His DCM is working. His suit and helmet are intact, but he’s unresponsive.”

  Once in the airlock, Avery cranked the outer door closed. Sealed inside the chamber, he secured Nick to the airlock wall and then hooked receptacles on Nick’s suit to outlets in the airlock that provided the suit with power and oxygen feeds from the ship. After hooking his own suit up to similar outlets, Avery examined Nick more closely. There were burn marks on his suit, but no punctures. His arms and legs were not mangled, and though his helmet was scraped up, it had no dents or cracks.

  Christine looked through the airlock window and used the intercom to ask, “Is he breathing? Can you tell?”

  The thickness of Nick’s suit made it impossible for Avery to see signs of respiration, so he placed his gloved hand on Nick’s midsection, just below the DCM pack. As soon as he felt the rise and fall of Nick’s abdomen, Avery turned toward the airlock window an
d held up his thumb for Christine to see.

  “Thank God,” Christine said, resting her forehead against the airlock window.

  “Ditto,” Avery said. He smiled and patted Nick’s shoulder. “Hang in there, my brother. You’re gonna be fine.”

  After the two-hour airlock repressurization was completed, Christine opened the inner airlock and assisted Avery in removing Nick’s suit. They examined him in the crew compartment, where they discovered burns on Nick’s body that aligned with his bodysuit electrodes. They treated his burns and hooked him up to the crew quarter’s medical diagnostic equipment. He was still unconscious and his vital signs were weak.

  “Should we try to wake him?” Christine asked.

  “Let’s give it a bit to see if he comes out of it on his own,” he said. “I’m hoping it’s just a concussion.”

  “Okay,” she said. “What now? Try Perseus again?”

  “No, first we need to get the engines back online,” Avery said.

  “But what if the UMOs come back? Shouldn’t we—”

  “Listen, right now, the ship’s a sitting duck. We need maneuverability more than we need anything else,” Avery said.

  “What good will that do? You saw how fast they were. We can’t outrun them,” Christine said. Avery noticed her hands trembling again.

  “True, we can’t. But if we have maneuverability, we can alter course, put some distance between us and Mars. Hopefully enough distance to buy us time to do a full-scale damage assessment, figure out how to communicate with Goddard and discuss next steps.”

  “But—”

  “Christine, think. They zapped the hell out of the pallet. They might have damaged Perseus. We need to make sure everything checks out before we try and launch it again. We don’t want it to blow up, right?”

  She lowered her head and sighed. Sensing Christine was about to lose her composure, Avery said, “Hey, look at me. I need my rhino tamer to step up. Right here, right now.”