Skywave

by K Patrick Donoghue

  The manner of the UMOs’ interaction with the fleet had also been unusual. From the videos and data transmitted to Mission Control through the command probe, CUBE-11, it appeared the UMOs had concentrated most of their attention on CUBE-8 and 10, spinning them around like a spiraling football while discharging electric pulses that damaged the probes’ solar panels. The only instrumentation on the probes in use at the time were microwave-band radars, also deployed to detect asteroids near the fleet. Curiously, the UMOs had not interacted with CUBE-2 and its active infrared spectrometer, nor did they gather to feed on VLF ions ejected by any of the probes’ engines.

  As Dante feared, Mission Control learned of the encounter thirty minutes after it was over, due to the time the fleet’s radio signals took to travel three hundred million kilometers to reach A3rospace Industries’ data relay satellite. Despite learning of the skirmish after the fact, the mission team was relieved the damage had been minimal. But it was a sobering reminder that the communication delay put the team in a helpless position to react to a brush with UMOs.

  “I have greater appreciation now for how helpless Skywalker must have felt when Cetus Prime went dark,” Dante had whispered to Kiera after first learning of the encounter.

  A later analysis of CUBE data suggested the UMOs had approached the fleet head-on through a Kirkwood gap, areas in the belt where the influence of Jupiter’s enormous magnetic field has pushed asteroids out of the way, creating avenues that are clear of obstacles.

  In a report to the mission team a week after the incident, Kiera had written a terse synopsis of their hypothesis:

  The UMOs must have been traveling the opposite way through the Kirkwood gap when they detected our fleet’s ion trail. Given how barren the belt is, ion-wise, our CUBE engines would have stood out, even at low throttle. From the data, it appears the UMO interactions were reconnaissance-oriented, as they made no attempt to feed, didn’t attack and disbanded quickly.

  Despite the benign appearance of the UMO encounter, Dante decided to activate the fleet’s VLF radiation shield. It had been turned off as the fleet entered the asteroid belt to minimize electromagnetic interference with the asteroid-detecting devices, but given the CUBEs had found their way into an asteroid-free Kirkwood gap, protecting the fleet from another UMO scouting party took precedence.

  The current status of the radiation shield was the focus of Amato’s next question: “Are you concerned the battery drain will affect the integrity of the shield?”

  “Yes, we are,” Dante said. “During the portion of our orbits around Callisto when we’re flying between it and Jupiter, the radiation levels from Jupiter’s magnetic field will likely be problematic. It’s not a good time to have a weak shield.”

  “You’re that worried about it even though Callisto is well beyond Jupiter’s main radiation belt?” Amato asked.

  “When we’re on the Earth-facing side of Callisto, I don’t think we’ll have a problem, and we’ll have the shield off anyway to scan for Cetus Prime,” Dante replied. “But on the Jupiter-facing side of Callisto, we have to have the shield on.”

  Callisto is tidally locked with Jupiter, meaning it rotates in exact precision with the larger planet’s rotation. The result of this phenomenon is that only one side of Callisto ever faces Jupiter…and as a consequence only one side of Callisto ever faces Earth. Since Ajay’s clicks could be detected from Earth, it meant the source of the signals must be facing Earth, hence the fleet’s search for the source would concentrate on Callisto’s Earth-facing side.

  Kiera jumped into the conversation. “That’s right. The CUBEs will be exposed to the highest radiation levels they’ve encountered since leaving Earth when they’re on the Jupiter-facing side.”

  “So, if we keep the shield off at all times to lessen the battery drain, we’ll risk radiation damage to our electrical components every loop we make,” Morgan interjected. “If we keep the shield on when we’re on the Jupiter side of Callisto, sooner or later we’ll lose CUBE-8 and CUBE-10 when their batteries run out.”

  “That’s the dilemma,” Dante said. “At the rate their batteries are draining, we won’t be on the Earth-facing side, the Sun-facing side, long enough in any one loop to fully recharge.”

  “And we can’t lose 8 and 10. They have our radars and magnetometers, and we’ll need them to find Cetus Prime,” Kiera said.

  This latter point was critical given the CUBEs did not carry instrumentation that would easily pinpoint the location of Ajay’s clicks, a circumstance born from the fact that the journey to Callisto had been an impromptu decision on Dante’s part after the fleet was attacked in Earth’s orbit.

  If Callisto had been the intended mission objective, the array of instruments launched into space aboard the CUBEs would have been customized to aid in the search for the source of the anomalous radio signals discovered by Ajay. Most notably, one or more of the probes would have been outfitted with an HF transmitter and receiver capable of tuning to twenty megahertz, the frequency where Ajay first discovered the clicks.

  In addition, given the possibility the signals originated from Cetus Prime’s HF transmitter — which could only be operating if power was being supplied by the ship’s batteries, in turn powered by the ship’s solar panels — one or more of the CUBEs would have been outfitted with a low-frequency spectrometer capable of detecting the electromagnetic radiation produced by Cetus Prime’s electrical systems. As it stood, the only spectrometers aboard CUBE-2 were higher frequency devices that were incapable of detecting Cetus Prime’s power grid.

  Therefore, without such equipment, the mission team had few available tools to pinpoint the source of Ajay’s clicks, regardless of whether they emanated from Cetus Prime or a natural phenomenon. Indeed, the primary instruments at their disposal were aboard CUBE-8 and 10.

  The mission team planned to use the radars on CUBE-8 and 10 to detect anomalous masses on each pass of the Earth-facing side of the moon. The radars would send out microwave signals that would bounce off any objects in range of the signals. These microwave echoes would create rough images of the objects. Based on the size and shape of detected objects, the mission team could focus further diagnostic evaluation on promising objects with CUBE-8’s and 10’s magnetometers. Since Cetus Prime had many metallic components with magnetic properties, the magnetometers could help further narrow the search on subsequent loops around Callisto. From there, they’d have to rely on visual observation by the fleet’s CUBE cameras trained on the subset of right-sized, right-shaped metallic objects to confirm the discovery of the lost spaceship.

  “Why don’t we drop into geosynchronous orbit on the Earth-facing side of Callisto? That would allow us to hide from Jupiter’s radiation long enough to recharge the batteries.”

  Morgan’s suggestion entailed going into “high Callisto orbit” on the Earth-facing side of Callisto. At that altitude, the fleet would tidally lock with the tidally-locked moon, effectively “parking” the fleet in a specific spot above Callisto, much like television and communication satellites that are parked over specific areas on Earth.

  Not only would this technique allow the fleet’s solar panels all the time they needed to recharge batteries, but it would also put Callisto between the fleet and Jupiter while they recharged, buffering the CUBEs from Jupiter’s radiation during the extended recharge period.

  Dante fielded the question. “That’s what we plan to do to manage 8’s and 10’s battery life, but it will add time to the search.”

  A geosynchronous orbit, while good for recharging the batteries, was too far from the moon for the CUBEs’ instruments to scan for anomalous masses, Dante reminded the group. So, the fleet would first need to recharge, then fly inward toward the moon and assume a closer orbital path where the fleet would circumnavigate Callisto in progressive latitude sweeps for as long as CUBE-8’s and 10’s batteries could withstand it. Then, they’d have to move the fleet back out to GEO to recharge again, repeating the process, again and again, until t
he fleet completed scanning all latitude bands of the moon.

  “Um, just to point out the obvious, dropping the shield for an extended period of time risks attracting UMOs…presuming they exist this far out,” Kiera said.

  “Oh, I think we can count on plentiful UMOs around Callisto,” Morgan said. “Jupiter’s so magnetic, its field so big, it must be like Candyland for the little buggers.”

  “Agreed, but precisely because of the abundance of ions in Jupiter’s magnetic field, I think it’s doubtful any UMOs would find our CUBE engines appealing,” Amato said. “After all, NASA’s sent a number of probes to Jupiter without a loss. Take Juno, for example. It’s been measuring electromagnetic radiation around Jupiter via spectrometers for over two years and its obviously not run into any UMOs.”

  “Yeah, but Juno’s spent most of its mission in the thick of Jupiter’s magnetic field,” Morgan said. “We’re talking radiation over three hundred times higher than what’s around Callisto. I doubt UMOs that close to Jupiter would notice Juno. It would look like a weed in a field of cornstalks.”

  “I have to agree with Colonel Morgan,” Kiera said. “The ion concentration around Callisto will be similar to Earth, and that means the likelihood of one or more UMO colonies.”

  “Duly noted,” Amato said. “But there’s little we can do about it. We have to be able to recharge; we have to be able to scan.”

  NASA Headquarters

  Washington, D.C.

  Pritchard and Brock sat side by side in front of Pritchard’s computer monitor. On the screen, the deep space satellite-tracking system used to keep tabs on NASA’s Juno probe displayed icons marking Amato’s fleet.

  “This is what I wanted to show you. Over the last few days, they’ve been slowing down,” Brock said. “It looks to me like they’re preparing to go into orbit.”

  “Why would Amato do that? Callisto makes no sense,” Pritchard said. He rose from his seat and began to pace, his hands buried in the pockets of his slacks.

  Ever since the fractious meeting with Amato and Morgan at DFW, Pritchard had assumed Amato’s fleet was attempting to solve the mystery of what happened to Cetus Prime after it endured an attack by UMOs near Mars. Whether to satisfy Amato’s curiosity or to ease Morgan’s conscience, Amato’s “reconnaissance mission” was an effort to reconcile the oddities presented by the ship’s disappearance.

  The first, and most puzzling, riddle was the crew’s final transmission to NASA. It occurred eighty days after communication with the ship was cut, and it originated from coordinates 230 million miles from Cetus Prime’s last reported position near Mars. For Cetus Prime to have traveled such a vast distance in such a short span of time, it would have had to maintain an average speed of one hundred and twenty thousand miles per hour — a speed well beyond the capabilities of the ship’s engines.

  The ship’s direction was also a mystery. The coordinates of the last transmission were located in an empty sector of space between the outer rim of the asteroid belt and Jupiter’s orbital path. If the ship had survived the UMO attack and had engine power, why would the ship have headed away from Earth instead of toward it?

  Potential answers to both riddles occurred to Pritchard shortly after observing CUBE-1’s engine test. UMOs, attracted by ions produced by the probe’s engine, had provided a dramatic kick in speed. And they’d taken over directional control of the CUBE until the flight director cut engine power.

  His suspicions were confirmed by CUBE-1’s subsequent unintentional flight to the Moon. To cover the three-hundred-thousand-mile gap between Earth and the Moon in less than three hours, CUBE-1 had traveled at an average speed of eighty-five thousand miles per hour — slower than Cetus Prime, but not by much.

  This led Pritchard to consider a startling possibility. UMOs had taken over directional control of Cetus Prime and pushed it farther out in the solar system at great speed. He was certain Amato had reached a similar conclusion, causing him to take an interest in revisiting the details of Cetus Prime’s mission and reconnecting with Paul Morgan. But how that led to Amato directing his fleet to Callisto was beyond Pritchard’s comprehension.

  A comment from Brock interrupted Pritchard’s pacing and rumination. “Not necessarily, Dennis.”

  “Sorry, what’s that?” Pritchard asked.

  Brock swiveled her chair to face Pritchard. “I’ve been thinking a lot about it. It’s why I wanted to talk with you. Callisto may make sense.”

  “No way. Look, Cetus’ final transmission originated one hundred million miles short of Callisto, and it was headed away from Callisto at the time, not toward it,” Pritchard said.

  “I know, but if UMOs were still in navigational control, they might have changed course,” Brock said.

  “Yeah, I get that. But why Callisto? Of all places in the solar system, why would UMOs have taken Cetus Prime to Callisto?” Pritchard asked.

  “Do you remember Christine Baker’s analysis of the first UMO attack?” Brock asked.

  Mission Specialist Christine Baker, a biologist, had been one of the three crew members aboard Cetus Prime. She had analyzed spectrometer data and video footage of the UMOs’ first run-in with the ship and concluded it hadn’t been a predatory attack.

  She theorized a scouting party of UMOs had mistaken electromagnetic radiation emanating from the ship’s X-ray spectrometer as a “call” from a queen UMO. Following that line of reasoning, Christine believed the scouting party had been sent to escort the queen back to Mars. Why? Because the UMOs residing around Mars lacked a queen for their colony. She pointed to video and data evidence that showed the UMOs exhibiting the same kind of nuzzling behavior on the X-ray spectrometer that honeybees exhibit when interacting with a new queen. When the scouting party didn’t receive return nuzzles from the X-ray spectrometer, the UMOs realized they had been duped and attacked the ship to warn it to stay away from their colony.

  “Yes, I remember. What about it?” Pritchard asked.

  “Think about her analysis in the context of the words Christine used in the crew’s last message.”

  Brock was referring to the aberrant transmission NASA received eighty days after a second UMO attack severed communication with the ship. In the eight-second portion of the corrupted video file NASA was able to salvage, the ship’s commander, Avery Lockett, and Christine were seated in the ship’s laboratory compartment. They were smiling, seemingly happy, and Christine was talking. The audio was garbled and her only discernable words were, “…VLF antenna…don’t know…taking us…”

  “I’m not following you,” Pritchard said.

  “Well, until Amato’s VLF engine, we’d always assumed Christine had been trying to tell us the crew had rigged up a VLF transmitter and antenna to replace the loss of the other comms,” Brock said.

  Pritchard sat back down next to Brock. “Go on.”

  “And then Amato’s engine test seemed to suggest the crew’s deployment of the VLF antenna had an unintended outcome. The VLF signals from Cetus attracted the UMOs and they exhibited the same behavior toward Cetus as Amato’s CUBE experienced.”

  She paused, an expectant look on her face. Pritchard shook his head. “Still not getting what you’re driving at.”

  “What if the VLF antenna had nothing to do with comms? What if Christine observed something else about the UMOs’ behavior, something she never got a chance to pass on to NASA,” Brock said.

  “Like what?”

  “Well, she would have known they feed on ions in Earth’s ionosphere. And she would have known that VLF radio waves were responsible for the density of ions in our ionosphere,” Brock said.

  “Wait. Are you suggesting the crew deployed the antenna to feed the UMOs…after they attacked the ship?” Pritchard asked.

  Brock said, “What would you do if you were out hiking and ran into a bear?”

  “What?”

  “Let’s say you had a backpack full of food. You’re walking along, minding your own business, and out of nowhere the be
ar pops out and corners you. What would you do?” Brock demanded.

  “Before or after I soiled myself?”

  “Either.”

  Pritchard shrugged. “I don’t know. Run? Play dead?”

  “Or maybe toss the bear the backpack? Hope he wants the food inside more than he wants you?” Brock suggested. “Dennis, hasn’t it always struck you as strange that we latched onto the idea that they constructed a VLF antenna for comms when their last message was sent on their UHF band?”

  “Yes and no. We tried many times, before and after that last message, to reach them on UHF. Nothing doing. In that light, the idea of them trying to find another way to communicate has always made sense,” Pritchard said.

  “Okay, fine. Maybe I’m wrong. Whether they built the antenna for comms or not, we’re in agreement the antenna attracted the UMOs, pushing the ship away from Mars as they gobbled up the VLF ions, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Dennis, what if Avery did the same thing Amato’s flight director did when he couldn’t control the CUBEs’ direction? What if Avery turned off the VLF antenna and discovered he could regain control?” Brock said. “They were probably too far away from Mars by the time Avery made the decision to stop transmitting VLF, or maybe the UMOs wouldn’t let go of Cetus Prime as easily as they let go of Amato’s CUBE. We’ll never know. But if Avery was able to finally escape the UMOs and reestablish navigational control over Cetus Prime, he would have known there was no chance of returning to Earth on the fuel left in the ship’s engines, unless…”

  “Unless,” Pritchard interrupted, “he rode the momentum from the UMO push to the first body in space where he could execute a slingshot back toward Earth.”