Skywave

by K Patrick Donoghue

  “In any event, it was a monumental task to manufacture a spaceship, recruit a crew willing to take the risk, develop a flight plan and outfit the supply probes, but it was done. The ship set off in September 1994, a little more than a year after Mars Observer was obliterated,” Amato said.

  “How’d they launch a manned mission to Mars without anyone noticing?” Kiera asked.

  “Oh, it was a clever operation,” Amato said. “Cetus Prime, the name of the craft, went up in pieces, much like ISS. Some of the components were launched under the guise of military payloads atop Atlas rockets. Others were carried and deployed by Shuttle missions. A dozen launches in all were required. Since the entire mission was a classified military operation, it minimized attention from the media and NASA observers.”

  Amato went on to explain other details of the mission. Given the compacted time frame NASA had to design and construct Cetus Prime, they borrowed heavily from the designs of the Shuttle and Skylab. The center fuselage of the tubular ship, including its solar panels, was a duplicate of Skylab’s compartments, though the internal configuration and external instrumentation were customized for the mission. The forward fuselage of a Space Shuttle was attached at the bow, complete with the Shuttle’s cockpit and forward maneuvering thrusters. The aft fuselage also came from the Shuttle, he explained, housing orbital maneuvering thrusters and the spacecraft’s main engines.

  “It was not the prettiest of ships, but it didn’t have to be,” Amato said.

  Once the orbital assembly was completed, Amato told them, the three-person Cetus Prime crew went up as passengers on a regularly scheduled Shuttle mission and docked with the ill-fated ship. “They got underway in late September with enough supplies to make it about two-thirds of the way to Mars.”

  The first of Amato’s convoy of resupply craft launched within days of Cetus Prime’s leaving Earth’s orbit, he explained. They trailed the course blazed by the larger spacecraft and rendezvoused with the ship at the midway point of its journey. “My probes were also ugly, but they were reliable. In many ways, they were precursors of those used today to resupply ISS.”

  “So, what happened? Did Cetus Prime make it to Mars?” Kiera asked.

  “Yes. They made it there. Unfortunately, they encountered the UMOs.”

  “They got their asses kicked, didn’t they?” Dante said. When Amato nodded, Dante lowered his head. “Poor bastards.”

  “Cetus Prime was patterned after science vessels. It wasn’t a warship.” Amato’s voice began to quiver. “It was ill prepared for a fight, and it should never have come to that.”

  “What do you mean?” Dante asked.

  “The ship was attacked at least twice. They survived the first one. They should have been told to come home after that. The ship was damaged. There was nothing to be gained by provoking the UMOs again,” Amato said.

  “Provoking them?” Kiera asked.

  With a slow nod, Amato said, “Don’t ask. You don’t want to know.” He paused and sighed. “In any event, communication was lost. It was assumed the ship was destroyed in the second assault. NASA tried to contact them for a period of time thereafter, but Cetus Prime was never heard from again.”

  Amato reached into his suit jacket pocket and retrieved a handkerchief. While he dabbed his eyes, Dante and Kiera sat in silence. After he returned the cloth to his pocket, Kiera asked, “You think the Callisto signals are coming from Cetus Prime?”

  “The odds are against it, but it strikes me as the most plausible explanation we have for the clicks,” Amato said, his voice strengthening. “But there’s a wrinkle, and it’s a big one.”

  “What’s that?” Kiera asked.

  “Your presentation said the clicks are only detectable around twenty megahertz,” Amato said.

  “That’s right,” she said.

  “Well, twenty megahertz falls within the HF radio band. Cetus Prime didn’t have HF equipment as part of its comms array. The lowest frequency band they could use to communicate with NASA was UHF.”

  “Oh,” she said, slumping back in her seat. “That kills the possibility, then. You can’t transmit HF frequency signals over a UHF transmitter, and you can’t pick ’em up with a UHF receiver.”

  “Correct,” Amato said.

  “Wait, you’re confusing me,” Dante said. “You said you thought the signals were coming from Cetus Prime.”

  “No, I said the odds were against it,” Amato said.

  “But you said it was the most plausible explanation,” Kiera said.

  “That’s right, I did,” Amato said.

  “Yet, you just pointed out it’s impossible,” Dante said.

  “No, I didn’t say that. I said they didn’t have HF equipment on their comms array,” Amato said. “But…they did have HF transmitters and receivers onboard...for communication between the ship and spacewalking astronauts.”

  “What?” Kiera said.

  Amato explained. “The headgear astronauts of that era wore beneath their helmets contained shortwave radios, designed to allow a spacewalking astronaut to communicate with the ship and other spacewalkers. On Shuttle missions, these radios operated on the UHF band, but for Cetus Prime, they substituted HF band transmitters and receivers.”

  “Wait. So, you think the clicks are coming from a ham radio, four hundred million miles away?” Dante asked.

  “As I said, the odds are against it, but to me, it’s within the realm of possibility,” Amato said. “We know communication with Cetus Prime was lost, presumably meaning the ship had been destroyed. But what if it survived the attack? What if its comms array was destroyed, but the ship was still operational? What would the astronauts on board have tried to do?”

  “They would have tried to reestablish communication,” Dante said. “By whatever means necessary.”

  “Exactly,” Amato said.

  “But NASA doesn’t monitor HF,” Kiera said. “Well, not before Radio JOVE, they didn’t. No one would have heard the signals.”

  “Actually, that’s not true,” Amato said. “NASA does monitor HF between Earth and ISS. Astronauts take up their own ham radios to chat with schoolkids and amateur radio buffs. Back in Cetus Prime’s day, Shuttle astronauts did the same. And, remember, the Soviets’ Mir space station was still in orbit in 1995.”

  “Why’s that relevant?” Dante asked.

  “Because Mir had a full-fledged ham radio station onboard,” Amato said.

  “I see,” Kiera said. “You’re saying they were hoping someone listening to a Shuttle or Mir ham radio conversation would pick up their signal.”

  “I think it’s likely they broadcasted live audio messages at first,” Amato said. He wasn’t prepared to say more until he’d conducted further research, but he suspected the decision to try the ham radio was initially aimed at contacting a specific person for a very specific reason, not a random act of desperation.

  “Makes sense,” Dante said. “But obviously no one heard them.”

  That wasn’t necessarily true, Amato thought. Cetus Prime was a clandestine mission, so no one outside the mission team was aware the ship was in space. Therefore, it was possible the crew had been successful in reaching a ham radio operator on Earth or aboard a spacecraft in orbit. But would the recipient have believed the message was real? Or would they have written it off as a hoax?

  “So, they went to the clicks,” Kiera said. “I’ll bet the clicks started out as a Morse Code SOS, but the transmission loop got corrupted somewhere along the line.”

  “Could be,” Amato said. “The important point is — if the clicks are coming from Cetus Prime, it favors the possibility the ship is partially intact.”

  “Right,” Dante said. “At a minimum, a section of its solar panels must be intact. Its batteries would be long dead by now otherwise.”

  “Which means the wiring between the solar panels, batteries, HF antenna and transmitter is still in place,” Kiera said.

  “If my memory is accurate,” Amato said, “Cetus
Prime’s solar panels were mounted just behind the forward fuselage of the main cabin. I don’t recall where the batteries were housed, but I presume they were in close proximity to the solar panels. I do know the HF antenna was midship of the main cabin, near the crew compartment airlock, not on the rear pallet with the rest of the comms array.”

  “Where would the HF transmitter and receiver have been located?” Dante asked.

  “I assume it would have been one of the instruments in the comms compartment, directly below the flight deck,” Amato said.

  “Implying the forward fuselage and a portion of the main cabin are still connected, at a minimum,” Kiera said.

  “Right. Which means there’s a chance the bodies of the crew are still inside the main cabin or forward fuselage,” Dante said.

  Amato stared off toward his painting of the spacewalkers. “Yes, and if that’s the case, I want to bring those brave astronauts home.”

  By the time Kiera and Dante’s meeting with Amato broke up, Ajay had returned to the waiting room outside Amato’s office with his mind still spinning.

  The tour of Mission Control, the HAB launch facility and the design laboratory had flown by and Ajay hardly remembered any of it. All he could think of was Amato’s offer to join A3rospace Industries.

  He had yet to open the envelope containing the details of the offer, but truth be told, Ajay didn’t care about the details. The opportunity to be part of Amato’s space exploration team was enough for him. Yet, a little voice inside his head kept asking an uncomfortable question: Why me?

  Ajay was also troubled by Kiera’s reaction to Amato’s offer. She clearly hadn’t expected it, given the body language she exhibited. To Ajay, she seemed offended by the offer and he could understand why. He wasn’t an expert in any aspect of aerospace engineering or astrophysics. In fact, his one and only class in basic physics in college had led him to change majors to pursue an accounting degree. Yes, he loved to stargaze and he considered himself skilled with optical and radio telescopes, but they were hobbies.

  By contrast, Kiera and her colleagues were career professionals with PhDs and other impressive academic credentials. Ajay was sure they all must have fought hard to earn a spot on Amato’s team. To have an amateur astronomer show up and snag a position must have riled Kiera. And the news of his hiring would likely have the same effect on other members of the team. It was a topic of conversation Ajay hoped to broach with Kiera over dinner before examining Amato’s formal offer.

  When Kiera stepped out of Amato’s office, however, Ajay discovered there would be no dinner. After introducing Dante, she informed him something had come up that required her immediate attention. She promised to check in on him in his cabin later in the evening and then she hurried off to her office, accompanied by Dante.

  Amato’s assistant, Mark Myers, appeared alongside Ajay and offered to dine with him in the compound’s cafeteria and then escort him to his cabin on Rorschach. As they prepared to leave, Amato came out of his office. “Mr. Joshi, may I have a quick word?”

  Moments later, he once again found himself at Amato’s conference table. Looking at the thick envelope Ajay placed on the table, Amato asked, “Have you had a chance to review the offer?”

  “No, not yet,” Ajay said.

  “I see,” Amato said. “Why not?”

  “Didn’t have a chance with the tour and everything,” he said.

  “Well, why don’t you go ahead and open it now? I can walk you through it,” Amato said.

  Ajay was reluctant to do as Amato suggested, but he didn’t want to appear disrespectful or ungrateful. He opened the envelope and read through the offer letter while Amato watched and waited for a response.

  The position described in the letter came with the title Research Assistant, reporting to Dr. Dante Fulton. The outlined duties of the position struck Ajay as loose and general in nature, although several seemed to reinforce data analysis as the key function of the job. The salary was three times what Ajay made as an accountant, and the benefits were just as attractive.

  If he accepted the position, he would be required to relocate to the Orlando area and work at a combination of the Mayaguana complex and Amato’s Orlando headquarters, under the same kind of rotation arrangement Kiera had mentioned when they met in Cocoa Beach — three weeks on, one week off. A hefty relocation allowance was offered as was a six-figure signing bonus. The start date highlighted in the letter was the current day.

  When Ajay finished reading the letter, he felt nauseated. As amazing as it was, it didn’t seem real, it didn’t seem right. Amato must have observed something amiss in Ajay’s demeanor, for he said, “You seem disappointed.”

  “No, not at all,” Ajay said. “It’s very generous.”

  “Then why do you look like you’ve swallowed rocket propellant?”

  “I don’t know, I guess I’m confused.”

  “By what?”

  Ajay shrugged. “By everything. I’m not qualified to do this job. And I don’t understand why you think I am.”

  Amato pushed back in his chair and studied Ajay with the intensity of a poker player trying to judge an opponent’s bid as sincere or a bluff.

  “You sell yourself short,” Amato said. “Many great explorers throughout history were not technically gifted experts, especially early in their pursuits. Yet, they had passion, determination and vision. And those attributes were more responsible for their discoveries than their abilities to navigate by stars, steer a ship or scale a mountain.”

  “But—”

  “Mr. Joshi, I’m offering you a front-row seat to find out what’s generating the clicks you discovered,” Amato said. “After all you’ve been through to get someone to pay attention to the clicks, why would you turn away such an opportunity?”

  “What if I’m wrong?” Ajay asked. “What if there’s nothing there?”

  “You’re looking at things upside down, young man,” Amato said. “The question you should be asking yourself is, what if I’m right? What if there is something there? Something profound? Isn’t that worth the risk to find out, one way or the other?”

  6: START YOUR ENGINES

  Mission Control

  A3rospace Industries Command and Control Center

  Mayaguana Island, The Bahamas

  July 20, 2018

  A month later, Amato’s SatFleet team was ready to test the CubeSats in orbit. Unbeknownst to the team, Amato had invited Dennis Pritchard and Helen Brock to observe the first round of tests. The news was not greeted with enthusiasm by Kiera. It would be nerve-wracking enough to see her engine design in action for the first time, Kiera had complained to Dante, she didn’t need the added pressure of Brock standing in judgment from the back of the room.

  “It’ll be fine,” Dante said. “You’re going to rock her world!”

  “Ha!” Kiera said. “You don’t know her like I do. She’s a know-it-all bitch. She’ll find something to criticize. Just watch.”

  Dante turned to look at the approach of Amato, Pritchard and Brock. Under his breath, he said, “Well, I’m thinking if you can find a way to keep your own bitch-factor dialed down, I’m sure she’ll do the same.”

  Kiera followed the direction of his gaze. After spotting the smiling Brock among the trio, she elbowed Dante in the ribs and muttered, “Did you just call me a bitch?”

  “Not directly,” Dante mumbled through a smile. Before Kiera could react, he stepped forward with hand extended to greet the NASA guests.

  Kiera stood back and eyed Brock. The last time they’d been in the same room together, Kiera had been on the receiving end of a blistering lecture. It was that epic dressing-down in front of her JPL colleagues that led to Kiera’s swift resignation thereafter.

  That was seven years ago, at a time when Kiera had viewed herself as a rising star at JPL, an irreplaceable part of Brock’s Juno mission team. She had clashed with Brock and other members of the team over flaws she believed existed in the probe’s engine design. She
had been combative to the point of disrespect and finally Brock unloaded on Kiera. In a fit of pique, Kiera quit, believing they’d never be able to launch without her and that the flaws she’d pointed out in the spacecraft’s design would doom the mission before it made it halfway to Jupiter.

  Kiera had been wrong on both counts. The launch went forward without her and Juno delivered spectacular results. Yes, the engine flaw she’d tried to raise to NASA’s attention over Brock’s objections had indeed reared its head as the probe neared Jupiter in 2016. But Brock and the other Juno team members had been able to accomplish most of the mission objectives despite being handicapped by the misfiring engine.

  “I’d like to introduce you to Dr. Kiera Walsh, the architect of our breakthrough CubeSat engine prototype,” Dante said to Pritchard and Brock.

  Kiera reached to shake Pritchard’s hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Brock’s face twitch. NASA’s CSO squinted as she examined Kiera’s bronzed face and sun-bleached hair. “Kiera Walsh? My, my, I barely recognized you.”

  “Good to see you, Dr. Brock,” came Kiera’s tepid response.

  Joining the conversation, Amato said, “Yes, Kiera’s engine is the most innovative design I’ve ever bankrolled. I’m certain you will both be very impressed.”

  “I don’t doubt that for a second. She’s an A-list engineer,” Brock said with a smile directed at Kiera.

  The unexpected compliment caused Kiera to blush. She said, “I can’t take credit. It was a team effort.”

  “Uh huh,” Brock said, shooting a skeptical glance at Kiera. “That may be so, but something tells me the breakthrough was all yours.”

  Of all the reunion greeting scenarios Kiera had imagined, this one was not among them. Unwilling to let down her guard, Kiera looked to Dante and reiterated, “It was a team effort.”

  “Well, congratulations, Kiera,” Brock said. “Team or no, I’m looking forward to seeing your babies fly.”