Skywave

by K Patrick Donoghue

  Grand Hyatt Hotel

  Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport

  July 26, 2018

  As the elevator began to move, Pritchard scanned his cell phone for messages. Beside him, Dr. Helen Brock focused her attention on the electronic display above the doors, watching the numbers change as they ascended.

  Brock had said little since the early part of the flight from DCA to DFW, a sign to Pritchard that she was unsettled by thoughts of the looming conversation with Amato and Morgan. While the career scientist was a deft politician, her experience was more along the lines of a lobbyist than a puppeteer.

  If someone was needed to appear before the Senate Appropriations Committee to argue on behalf of the space agency for a vital project, Brock was first in line. She was supreme in her ability to defend NASA’s priorities against axe-wielding budget cutters on the Hill. If a negotiator was called for to broker NASA’s inclusion into a rival space agency’s mission, Brock was an effective and relentless advocate. If a crisis emerged in a mission, she could rally the most fractious of competing interests, inside and outside the agency, into a cohesive, problem-solving unit.

  In Pritchard’s opinion, her effectiveness stemmed from her passion, her belief in NASA’s mission. She was a purist at heart, one who employed her lobbying skills to advance the cause of space exploration. In the current setting, however, her purity was under siege.

  Pritchard had not known Brock that well before his appointment to run NASA. She was ten years his junior and had been a JPL project manager at Caltech when Pritchard left the agency to head up Embry Riddle. Therefore, until he rejoined NASA, Pritchard was unaware of the extent of Brock’s knowledge of UMOs…and of the Cetus Prime mission.

  Since then, he learned she was well versed on both subjects and avoided discussion of them as if they were sacrilegious. At first, Pritchard assumed her uneasiness was steeped in professional jealousy, for the UMO research program was segregated from her oversight. But the more Pritchard came to know her, the more he realized that was not the root of her angst.

  No, what rankled Brock was the ongoing deception. She didn’t want to be a party to it and abhorred the idea of defending it. For defending it meant actively contributing to the deception, a tough pill to swallow for a purist.

  “Are you going to tell them?” Brock had asked shortly after takeoff.

  “Tell them what?” Pritchard had said.

  “That we’re tracking the CUBEs. That we know where both sets are?”

  “No.”

  The Pentagon had diverted a spy satellite to an orbital position that allowed U.S. Space Command and NASA to monitor transmissions to and from Amato’s data relay satellite, the conduit between Amato’s CUBEs and the Mayaguana Mission Control Center. The spy satellite, previously performing a similar surveillance on a Chinese Space Agency tracking and data relay satellite, had pinpointed Amato’s fleet as soon as its X-band communication link had been reestablished. Unbeknownst to Brock, the spy satellite also carried equipment that could cripple Amato’s ability to communicate with his fleet.

  Brock had needled, “You’re not concerned about the CUBEs headed for Mars? What it implies? Especially with Morgan on his team?”

  Oh, Pritchard was worried about it all right, but revealing the surveillance wouldn’t help matters. And even if he wanted to dissuade Amato from Mars by fessing up, the spy satellite was a classified asset. He reminded Brock of that fact, ending their conversation.

  Though she hadn’t raised it, Pritchard knew Brock was also dismayed by the president’s decision to renege on the promise to provide Amato with access to Dr. Shilling and his UMO research. He imagined she’d be even more upset if she became aware the president had also gone back on the agreement to allow Amato to discuss Cetus Prime with Pritchard and Morgan, only she had never been privy to that agreement. Nor was she aware the FBI, in conjunction with the National Security Agency, had been authorized to infiltrate and surveil Amato’s cell phone and his company’s email servers. Or that a rotation of armed Hellcat drones now circled the Atlantic Ocean surrounding Mayaguana, ready to knock out the site’s communications array at the push of a button.

  When the elevator doors slid open, they stepped into the hotel hallway. As Brock adjusted the strap of her satchel, Pritchard scanned the room directory on the wall to locate the conference suite where Amato and Morgan awaited their arrival. He turned to see Brock staring at the pointed tips of her high heels, her arms clutched across her abdomen.

  “You sure you’re up for this?” Pritchard asked. “I don’t have a problem if you want to sit this one out.”

  “No, I’m fine,” she said.

  Of all the words Brock could have chosen to describe her disposition, “fine” was the last adjective Pritchard would have attached to the look on her face.

  The meeting got off to a rocky start before a single word was exchanged. The trouble began with Paul Morgan. Despite his earlier advice to Amato to ratchet down the rhetoric, Morgan came to the meeting itching for a fight. Over the preceding two days, many suppressed memories of the Cetus Prime debacle had found their way back into his mind, as had the anger Morgan associated with them.

  It just so happened he was closest to the door when the NASA contingent entered the room and, as such, was the first to receive Pritchard’s attention. There had been a confused expression on Pritchard’s face when he first glanced at the fabled Skywalker. Unlike the chiseled Adonis that had been NASA’s pride and joy for more than two decades, the man standing before Pritchard looked like he was on his way to a happy hour buffet in Margaritaville.

  For a moment, it appeared Pritchard thought he’d stumbled into the wrong room.

  But then he’d zeroed in on the photo button pinned to Morgan’s shirt just below the collar — a button with the official flight photograph of the three astronauts that made up Cetus Prime’s crew, Commander Avery Lockett, Flight Engineer Nick Reed and Mission Specialist Christine Baker — and Pritchard’s expression hardened.

  Though each man was courteous enough to shake hands, no smiles were exchanged nor was there any friendly banter. Morgan’s greeting with Brock was more civil, though he was gruff when she respectfully addressed him as Colonel. “The name is Paul. I hung up my flight suit a long time ago.”

  Sensing the tension in the room, Amato stepped forward and attempted to ease the atmosphere with hearty handshakes, a broad smile and lighthearted conversation. But as soon as Pritchard tried to steer the conversation to a discussion of their respective goals for the meeting, the first of several testy exchanges between Morgan and Pritchard ensued.

  “I’d like to think this is the first step in what I hope will be a historic partnership,” Pritchard said. “One in which we combine our brains and resources in the name of science and in the name of —”

  “Flowery words for a guy who wanted to lock Augie away in Guantanamo for the rest of his miserable life,” Morgan said.

  The shot across the bow stunned Pritchard. He looked between Amato and Morgan, searching for words. “Uh…I, uh…Look, I’m sorry about that, Augie. I was out of line.”

  “Damn right you were,” Morgan said.

  “Paul, throttle back, please,” Amato said to Morgan. Turning to Pritchard, Amato spoke with a conciliatory tone. “It’s all right, Dennis. We both said things we probably shouldn’t have. Water under the bridge as far as I’m concerned.”

  Pritchard nodded. “Good. Same here. Now, as I was saying. We have a chance to form a historic—”

  “Can we skip the shoe shine and get down to business?” Morgan interjected. “We’re here to talk about the UMOs.”

  Despite another effort by Amato to quell Morgan’s ire, the dialogue went downhill from there. Pritchard deflected discussion of NASA’s UMO research and suggested starting the meeting with a review of Amato’s engine design. He revealed Brock had deciphered Kiera’s reference to the HERTS team and confirmed NASA knew the VLF engine design was somehow related to the e
lectric sail concept, but Pritchard pointed out capturing VLF radio waves had never been a cornerstone of the HERTS team’s deliberations. Amato countered by politely pointing out that his CUBEs were at imminent risk of further UMO attacks, and so a discussion of NASA’s UMO research was of greater urgency.

  “I beg to differ, Augie,” Pritchard said. “Your engine stirred up the UMOs like nothing we’ve ever seen. We need to know why, quickly, to avoid provoking further satellite train wrecks like we had the other day.”

  Up until this point in the meeting, Brock had maintained a blank stare at the pad and pen in front of her on the table. To buttress Pritchard’s point, she looked to Amato and said, “You have to understand. There’s not been an attack on any Earth spacecraft for over twenty years. And then out of the blue we had at least a dozen in one day. The common denominator in those attacks was the presence of your CUBEs and their unique engines.”

  “Now that’s the kind of bullshit that caused me to leave NASA,” Morgan said, pointing at Brock.

  “Excuse me?” Brock said.

  “You know…and I know…and now Augie knows, there have been other UMO attacks. In fact, your research team trained them to attack,” Morgan said, jabbing his finger toward Brock again. “What you’re really upset about is the fact that you thought you had their behavior down pat. That you could control them. And now you see behavior that doesn’t fit and it scares you.”

  Brock prepared to rebut Morgan’s assertions, but he continued on before she could speak. “And another thing. I’ve been through Augie’s data. In your so-called ‘train wreck,’ the CUBE engines were off. The attack occurred because Augie’s team used X band for comms, something you should have warned them to avoid.”

  The back and forth went on for an hour with no movement on either side. Finally, an exasperated Pritchard said, “Augie, this is pointless. We’re just going around in circles.”

  “Unfortunately, I have to agree,” Amato said. “So much for a historic partnership.”

  “Before we throw in the towel, I do have one last thing to say. I don’t know where your CUBEs are at the moment or where they’re headed, but I’ve had a lot of time to think the last couple of days about everything that’s happened, about things you’ve said and done, things you’ve asked for,” Pritchard said. “And it all made me wonder…why the secrecy? I understand your CUBEs are your intellectual property, but you’ve never locked NASA out like this before. We’ve done plenty of side-by-side work on other projects and you’ve never declined to share information.

  “Then, I asked myself, why the urgency to launch your full fleet when it looked like your first CUBE test failed? That didn’t make sense for a man as methodical as you’ve been in the past. Or the decision to take them out of orbit, with three destroyed and others presumably damaged. It felt like an act of desperation.

  “Weirder still, one day you’re threatening to tell the world about UMOs, and the next you’re playing off a script that sounds like it was written by the White House press secretary. I questioned myself, why the sudden change of heart?

  “You ask for a waiver from your Cetus Prime nondisclosure agreement to talk to me and Paul about the mission. An odd request in the context of all those other uncharacteristic actions, don’t you think?”

  Pritchard paused to point at the photo button on Morgan’s shirt. “I still wasn’t sure until Skywalker, here, pulled that stunt.”

  “I have no idea what you’re insinuating,” Amato said.

  “Augie, I’m never the smartest guy in any room I walk into, but I’m also not the dumbest. I would reconsider your ‘reconnaissance mission’ and bring your CUBEs back to Earth.”

  “Dennis, you’re not making any sense,” Amato said.

  “Come on, Helen, we’re done here.” Pritchard rose from the table and motioned for Brock to do the same. When he reached the door, he pulled it open and then turned to Amato. “I don’t know how or where you found it, Augie, but I’ll tell you this. Nothing good will come from digging up the past.”

  15: CALLISTO APPROACH

  Mission Control

  A3rospace Industries Command and Control Center

  Mayaguana Island, The Bahamas

  October 26, 2018

  Rain spattered the window of Ajay’s dorm room. Huddled beneath the bedcovers, he watched trails of water trickle down the glass as if racing one another. Illuminated by the compound’s security lights against the dark sky, the water sparkled like stars at night.

  Normally, Ajay found the nocturnal sounds of the Bahamian island’s pop-up showers soothing, but not on this occasion. Ninety days had passed quickly, and as the SatFleet closed in on Callisto, there was too much to think about, too many possibilities to imagine, for Ajay to fall asleep. Some part of him wondered if he was caught in a dream, for it seemed impossible his recordings of Jovian clicks had led him on such an exciting new path.

  Not but five months ago, Ajay would have spent his days scouring tax documents, prepping returns and reviewing them with clients. At lunch, he and his “posse” of male coworkers would talk sports, girls and weekend plans. On most nights, he’d return home late and tune in his radio telescope to listen to the sounds of Jupiter, or drive to the nearby White Tank mountains to set up his optical telescope to gaze at the gas giant. He’d cap off these nights in front of his laptop, browsing space-centric forums, websites and podcasts, commenting on interesting stories or posts. And, of course, updating hizz boi 3lr0y with new podcasts of his own when inspired by a new Radio JOVE recording or a fresh rejection of his clicks-coming-from-aliens theory.

  Compared to his daily routine since coming to Mayaguana, these mundane memories felt like they occurred a lifetime ago. Now he spent his days in Mission Control alongside aerospace engineers, physicists and an astronaut, playing a part in a grand adventure that came about because of him and his clicks-aliens theory. At lunch, he and his coworkers would discuss their latest UMO encounters, Callisto and what they might find there. At night, Ajay would most often wander down to the lower level to hang out with Paul Morgan aboard The Rorschach Explorer.

  Ajay would never forget the night he first met the astronaut Dante and Kiera called Skywalker. No matter how many times they said the name in advance of Morgan’s arrival at Mayaguana, they always said it with reverence. After hearing the tale of how Morgan acquired the nickname, Ajay understood why they held him in such high regard.

  In the midst of a botched deployment of a satellite from the cargo bay of the Space Shuttle Morgan commanded, he had left the safety of the flight deck to rescue one of his crew whose safety tether had been severed by debris from the collision of the satellite with the Shuttle’s cargo bay crane. Without depressurizing properly, Morgan had thrown on his spacesuit, clipped into an experimental jet pack sans safety tether and headed after the unconscious astronaut drifting away into space. He rescued the astronaut and became a legend for the daring, death-defying spacewalk.

  So, when Skywalker and Amato approached Ajay as he sat gazing at Rorschach the night Morgan arrived, Ajay had been bowled over by Morgan’s first words. After Amato introduced him, Morgan had shaken Ajay’s hand with vigor, saying, “You, my friend, are my hero.”

  Ajay had been puzzled by the greeting, but the following day Amato had summoned Ajay to his office where he told him of Cetus Prime and Morgan’s connection with the ill-fated mission. That’s when Ajay also first learned of the possibility his Radio JOVE clicks originated from lost spacecraft.

  Since then, Morgan had gone out of his way to build a friendship with Ajay, spending an hour or two most nights on Rorschach with him. They’d talk about what life aboard a spaceship was really like or go through different compartments discussing the system functions and controls. On a few occasions, Morgan talked about Cetus Prime and shared stories about the crew, but Ajay limited his questions, having been warned by Amato to tread lightly when discussing the mission.

  His favorite pastime with Morgan was sitting next to the
astronaut on the flight deck, playing the role of communications officer during simulated spaceflight. There, he learned to operate the communications center and the protocols for transmitting and receiving information with Mission Control.

  Yes, his life was much different now. Instead of dreaming of spaceflight and aliens, Ajay was now front and center for an epic adventure. He’d seen real aliens, the far side of the Moon, Mars and the asteroid belt. But all that paled next to Callisto and the discoveries yet to come…

  Amato walked into the crowded conference room and in cheery fashion said, “Good morning, everyone.”

  Gathered at the table were Dante, Kiera, Morgan, Ajay and a host of other Mission Control team members. They were assembled for the morning mission meeting and to discuss preparations for the upcoming orbital insertion around Callisto, as well as the search plan for pinpointing the source of the clicks.

  On a television monitor behind Amato’s place at the table, a video played showing the uber-cratered surface of the moon. The video was recorded and transmitted by CUBE-2, the lead probe of the six-CUBE fleet, the prior day.

  Once Amato took his seat, he said, “Okay, Dante, lead us off.”

  “Yes, sir,” Dante said. “Overall, there’s been little change since yesterday. We’ve been using thrusters to slow down as we approach our orbit window. All the CUBEs are operating within specs, though we’re still having an issue with battery drain on CUBE-8 and CUBE-10. We’re managing it, but we’ll need to keep a close eye on both of them. We can’t afford to lose them.”

  The solar panels for the two probes had been damaged during a UMO encounter as the fleet passed through the asteroid belt. The run-in had been a surprise given the belt’s low concentration of free-floating ions, as it seemed inconceivable that a colony of the electromagnetic beings could survive in such an ion-scarce environment. Further, the CUBEs’ engines had been operating below the power threshold believed necessary to attract UMOs. And the only spectrometer in use at the time had been an infrared device on CUBE-2, which the mission team had deployed to aid in the detection of any asteroids in the fleet’s path.