Skywave

by K Patrick Donoghue

  Of course, from time to time, a few of the Apollo astronauts would still yap about the strange lights that followed them to the Moon and back, but thankfully their commentaries were only embraced by conspiracy theorists and alien hunters. Pritchard supposed it was a blessing that most of the Apollo crews had stuck to the official “melting frost caught in sunlight” explanation for the lights.

  But the ISS images were getting harder for NASA to dispel, particularly when one of the lights exhibited nonballistic motion. Tech-savvy amateurs were getting better at measuring the speed and trajectories of the lights, and they showed no hesitation in posting their findings — and suspicions — on the Internet. Thank God they hadn’t gotten their hands on the full clip of the Destiny incident, Pritchard thought, or it would have been game over.

  If Shilling couldn’t find a way to keep them away from high-value assets in orbit and NASA’s cameras, sooner or later the dam was going to break. And when it did, the person most likely to step forward and reveal the full truth was Morgan.

  5: CETUS

  A3rospace Industries Command and Control Center

  Mayaguana Island, The Bahamas

  June 18, 2018

  “You think the signals are coming from Phobos-1, don’t you?” Dante asked.

  While fidgeting with his cuff links, Augustus Amato stared at the painting of astronauts floating around a spacecraft and weighed how much he should share with his two lieutenants. It was possible, after all, that he was incorrect about the source of the radio signals. They might just be the result of a natural phenomenon or some unknown source of interference.

  Yet, the steady, predictable pattern of the clicks discovered by Ajay Joshi argued against both explanations. In Amato’s mind, that left only two other possibilities. Either the signals emanated from a lost probe, as Kiera speculated, or there was an alien presence on the Jovian moon broadcasting radio signals. This latter possibility seemed too fantastical for even Amato to believe, leaving the lost-probe scenario as the most probable source of Ajay’s clicks.

  Given the speed with which Kiera had reached the same conclusion, Amato knew NASA would do the same if made aware of the signals. Before speaking with Pritchard, Amato believed there was a distinct possibility they already knew about the clicks. Their brush-off of Ajay’s findings was a textbook ploy used by the agency when presented with information they wished to avoid acknowledging. That is why Amato had risked calling Pritchard. He had hoped the administrator would slip and reveal knowledge of the Callisto signals through his reaction to Amato’s request for Morgan’s contact information, or to his probing about Juno.

  But Amato had not detected any hint of suspicion or defensiveness in Pritchard’s answers to his questions. In fact, Pritchard had maintained an affable demeanor throughout the call. The only part of their discussion that had concerned Amato was Pritchard’s prodding to use one of his prized astronauts as a consultant instead of Morgan. Amato had suspected it had been an effort to dissuade him from pursuing Morgan, rather than a sincere gesture on Pritchard’s part to provide access to one of NASA’s current shining stars. But, after the conversation about Juno, Amato had changed his mind.

  Still, Pritchard was cagey, and Amato considered it prudent to assume NASA was aware of the Callisto signals. And that meant it would be a race to reach the Jovian moon. As such, Amato felt he had no choice but to share his suspicions with Dante and Kiera. If he wanted their full commitment to achieve his accelerated launch window, he would have to tell them the impetus for the pressure.

  “No, Dante, I don’t think the signals originate from Phobos-1,” Amato said. “But I do think there’s a possibility they originate from a vehicle connected to Phobos-1’s disappearance.”

  “Excuse me?” Dante said.

  Amato reached into a drawer and removed a folder. He placed it on the desk and laid his hand on top. “In here, I have the confidentiality agreements you both signed when you joined A3rospace Industries. In them, you swore to hold any and all proprietary information you obtain while in my employ confidential in perpetuity. Do you remember these pledges?”

  “Of course,” Dante said.

  “Yes,” Kiera said.

  “Good. I, myself, have signed such agreements in my lifetime. Only one of which required perpetual confidentiality. I signed it twenty-three years ago, and I have honored it to this day. I could continue to honor it, and keep you both in the dark, but if I did, I believe we would forgo a historic opportunity to right a wrong and bring peace to three very brave individuals,” Amato said.

  He paused and riveted his eyes on Dante and then Kiera. “In violating the agreement, I risk life imprisonment for treason. A fate that would await me if either of you were ever to violate your agreements with me and divulge the story I am about to tell you.

  “As you can imagine, I do not wish to die inside a prison cell. So, I must insist you commit to disavow any knowledge of the topic we are about to discuss, whether we find what I suspect is on Callisto or not. Do we understand each other?”

  The ashen-faced Kiera nodded. Dante said, “Yes, sir.”

  “I am afraid I need a verbal answer, Dr. Walsh,” Amato said.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Yes. Of course,” Kiera said.

  “Very well,” Amato said. “I consider your pledges binding for perpetuity, or until such time I release you from those pledges.”

  Amato replaced the folder in the drawer and then folded his hands atop the empty desk surface. He cleared his throat and said, “To begin, aliens exist.”

  He hesitated and observed the looks on their faces. Each made an effort to maintain a nonjudgmental expression, but both of the aerospace engineers twitched at the mention of aliens. Dante was the first to speak.

  “You’re not suggesting little green men pulled their flying saucer alongside Phobos-1 and hijacked it to Callisto, are you?” Dante asked.

  “No, I’m not,” Amato said.

  “Whew,” Dante said, turning to share a smile with Kiera.

  “But I am suggesting aliens were involved in the demise of Phobos-1,” Amato said.

  The comment caused Dante’s smile to disappear. “Oh, come on. You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m very serious,” Amato said.

  Dante shook his head from side to side. “I’m sorry, Mr. Amato. I don’t want to be disrespectful, but that’s crazy talk.”

  “Don’t apologize. I’m not offended. In fact, I appreciate your skepticism. Good scientists should be skeptical,” Amato said. “Yet, they should also have open minds. It’s better to seek and evaluate evidence before reaching a conclusion, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Yes, of course,” Dante said. “The key word there is evidence.”

  “Oh, there’s evidence,” Amato said. “It’s classified, of course, but there is evidence.”

  “So, now, not only did aliens take out Phobos-1, you’re suggesting there’s been a conspiracy to cover it up?” Dante asked.

  “Yes, that’s right,” Amato said. “There was a cover-up. But it started long before the loss of Phobos-1. It goes all the way back to the Gemini program and continues to this day.”

  For a moment, Dante appeared ready to burst out laughing, but his demeanor turned serious the longer he gazed at Amato’s stony expression. “You’re not kidding, are you?”

  “I’m entirely serious,” Amato said.

  Dante opened his mouth to lodge another protest, but Kiera intervened. “Chill, Dante. Let’s hear him out before we jump to any conclusions.”

  Stung by Kiera’s raised-voice rebuke, Dante crossed his arms and huffed. “Fine.”

  Kiera turned to Amato. “You were saying there’s classified evidence about the aliens.”

  “That’s right,” Amato said. “You’ve seen the aliens before, or at least heard of them, I’m sure. Small bright lights that’ve been filmed flitting around spacecraft. Lights that can travel at supersonic speeds, pivoting in new directions in the blink of an eye.

 
“For decades, NASA has publicly dismissed them as inanimate objects caught in sunlight: melting frost falling off our spacecraft, pieces of floating space junk, electromagnetic particles bouncing off our atmosphere.

  “But the truth is, the lights are creatures that live in the void of space. For the most part, they are harmless, curious creatures. They are electromagnetic life-forms, feeding on ions in the cosmic void and ions trapped between our magnetosphere and ionosphere. Those privy to their existence call them UMOs, or unidentified magnetic objects.”

  “Now, hold on,” Dante said. “As you well know, both Kiera and I used to work at NASA. I’ve never heard a single soul mention unidentified magnetic objects. Have you, Kiera?”

  “Nope,” Kiera said. “I even did an internship at the SETI Institute. As passionate as they are about the certainty of alien life in the universe, I never heard anyone there use that term either.”

  Amato sighed. “There is great irony in NASA’s reluctance to acknowledge the existence of UMOs. We point our telescopes at constellations billions of miles away, searching for signs of intelligent life. And literally at the edge of our own atmosphere, there is indisputable proof of extraterrestrial life.”

  “Indisputable? What proof do you have?” Dante asked.

  “If you mean physical proof, I have none,” Amato said. “I don’t have a body to show you, or a plasma chamber full of them lit up like fireflies.”

  “Then what kind of proof do you have?” Kiera asked.

  “I was involved in a classified UMO research project, many years ago,” Amato said. “I presume there have been other research projects since, though I’ve not been involved in them.”

  “What kind of research projects?” Dante asked.

  “NASA and the military want to learn more about their behavior,” Amato said.

  “The military?”

  “Yes, they view the UMOs as threats. And they’re right to label them as such. The UMOs are capable of defending themselves. Very capable,” Amato said.

  “Defend themselves? How?” Dante asked.

  “They behave just like any Earth animal when confronting a threat. They either fight or take flight. When they fight, they produce an EMP-like discharge toward the source of the threat. Alone, they can’t do much damage. When they swarm like bees, however, they can be incredibly destructive,” Amato said.

  With eyes glued on Amato, Kiera leaned forward. Meanwhile, Dante tugged at his goatee with an expression that struck Amato as a cross between a frown and a smirk. He sat sideways in his chair, elbow propped on the armrest, and devoted more of his attention to observing Kiera than he did Amato.

  “Is that what happened to Phobos-1, then? The UMOs swarmed it?” Kiera asked.

  “That’s what the photographic evidence suggests,” Amato said.

  “Gotta stop you again,” Dante said, holding up both hands to form a T. “Photographs? Phobos-1 has never been found.”

  “Yes, that’s the story the Soviets…and NASA…would like you to believe,” Amato said. “But the Soviets found it, all right. Remember, they launched Phobos-2 less than a week after Phobos-1. It followed the same course and passed by the wreckage of Phobos-1 within days of its destruction.”

  “The pictures are of wreckage?” Kiera asked.

  “Yes. As I said, the probe was attacked by the UMOs,” Amato said.

  “Wait a minute,” Dante said. “How do you make that leap? It might have blown up on its own. A fuel leak or something, just like Mars Observer.”

  “Funny you should mention Mars Observer,” Amato said with a smile. “We’ll get to that mission in a little bit, but believe me, if you had seen the Phobos-2 pictures, you would understand why the destruction of Phobos-1 couldn’t have been caused by a fuel leak. Or a lucky meteor strike, for that matter.”

  “Explain,” Dante challenged.

  “The damage was too targeted. They went after the electromagnetic components only. They sliced off and melted the comms dish array. They pierced holes through the body to get to the power supply. They obliterated some of its instrumentation. It looked like it had been hit by precision laser beams,” Amato said. “Truth be told, that’s what the Soviets thought happened. At least, that was the opinion of their military.”

  “They thought aliens had taken out their probe with laser beams?” Dante said, growing more incredulous by the moment.

  “No,” Amato said. “After they saw the Phobos-2 photographs, they concluded NASA and the Pentagon had conspired to send a secret probe to follow and destroy Phobos-1. It’s why they came up with their bogus human-error cover story. They didn’t want to acknowledge their craft had been destroyed by the U.S.

  “Recall the timing of the Phobos missions. The late 1980s. Neither of you were born yet, but you must have gone over that period of world history in school at some point. What was going on in the world at that time? In the USSR, specifically?”

  “Oh, right,” Kiera said. “The fall of the Berlin Wall.”

  “Correct,” Amato said. “Recall, too, that the U.S. military was still working on Reagan’s ‘Star Wars’ defense system in the late 1980s. Add it all together and the already jumpy Soviet military thought both Phobos probes were destroyed by a superweapon from Reagan’s SDI program.”

  “Both probes?” Kiera asked.

  “Yes, Phobos-2 was destroyed by the UMOs too,” Amato said. “It was attacked as it maneuvered close to the target of its mission, Phobos, the moon. It was supposedly preparing to launch two landers when communication was inexplicably lost, but it managed to transmit a final batch of photographs. Two of them show blurred images of the swarming UMOs.”

  “So, how do you know all of this?” Kiera asked, adopting a tone more in line with Dante’s cynicism.

  “When the USSR broke apart in 1991, a lot of Soviet state secrets found their way to the West, including information from some of their space scientists seeking sanctuary in the States. The Phobos photos and data were among the cache of secrets they traded. At least, that’s what I was told,” Amato said.

  Dante sat up straight and edged closer to Amato’s desk. “Okay, I’ll suspend my disbelief, for now. Explain how any of this relates to the radio signals from Callisto?”

  “In a moment. It’s important you understand the full story,” Amato said. He was pleased to see a shift in Dante’s dismissive behavior. Amato couldn’t blame him or Kiera for their skepticism. When first told of the truth behind the lost Phobos probes, Amato hadn’t believed it either. It wasn’t until he’d seen the pictures that his disbelief had waned.

  “For a period of time,” Amato said, “NASA and the Pentagon debated what to do with the information. Until examining the Phobos files, NASA had viewed the UMOs as curiosities, nothing more. In fact, I don’t really think anyone thought they were intelligent beings until then. But, afterward, both NASA and the military became concerned about the possibility of the UMOs inflicting similar damage to payloads orbiting Earth. And they had a right to be concerned. The creatures had begun appearing with greater frequency in the orbital band occupied by military satellites, and NASA noticed more UMO activity around Shuttle missions.

  “So, NASA and the Pentagon lobbied the White House to authorize a clandestine mission to send a probe to Phobos to see if they could find the Phobos-2 wreckage. There was even a discussion about trying to lasso the main sections of the debris and hauling them back to Earth for an eventual rendezvous with a Space Shuttle mission. As fate would have it, NASA had a Mars probe planned to launch later in 1992, the Mars Observer mission,” Amato said. He turned to Kiera. “I assume it was on your list of lost probes.”

  She nodded. “That’s right. It exploded during a maneuver to insert into Mars’ orbit.”

  Amato folded his arms across his chest. A small smile spread on his face.

  “Wait. Are you saying the UMOs took out Mars Observer too?” Dante asked.

  “As you mentioned, the official speculation was a fuel leak, but…,” Amato s
aid with a shrug of his shoulders.

  “Whoa,” whispered Kiera.

  “Whoa, indeed,” Amato said. “As you might imagine, the Pentagon was highly agitated. They pressed the White House for another mission. A manned mission. An armed mission.”

  “What? To Mars?” Dante questioned.

  “Yes. This is the point in the story where I entered,” Amato said. “I was called to NASA headquarters to meet with the chief admin at that time, Dr. Karen Wells. She’s long since retired. When I entered the room, I was greeted by the secretary of defense, the commander of the U.S. Space Command, and the NASA flight director in charge of the secret mission…Dr. Dennis Pritchard.”

  “No way,” Kiera said.

  “Yes. You see, I’d been vocal about my fleet concept since the mid-eighties, and the biggest challenge NASA faced in pulling the mission off was supplying the crew with enough food, water and oxygen for the eighteen-month round-trip,” Amato said. “They briefed me on their intentions and asked me to develop supply probes that could be launched to rendezvous with the manned spacecraft at various points in its flight to and from Mars.”

  Dante pushed back his chair and used his hands again to signal Amato for a time-out. “Sorry for skipping to the end, boss. Are you saying the Callisto signals are coming from the NASA ship? Something happened to it and it never made it back?”

  Amato nodded. “Very good. You are on the right track, but please, let me finish. I am almost done.”

  Dante pulled his chair closer to the desk and propped his elbows on the surface. Kiera nudged her seat forward as well.

  “The story of the mission itself is an adventure unlike any ever told. It makes Apollo 13 look like a walk in the park. I won’t go into all of it now; we will have plenty of time to discuss it later,” Amato said. “It was dubbed the Cetus mission. As I’m sure you know, Cetus is a constellation known as ‘the whale.’ The name comes from Greek mythology. Cetus was a terrible sea monster slain by Perseus to prevent the beast from killing Andromeda.

  “Dennis Pritchard has a fondness for the dramatic, and he viewed the mission as a quest to confront a celestial beast. If he’d only known how tragic the mission would end, I doubt he ever would have chosen that name.