Shilling then showed a slow motion, close-up video of the UMO movements from one engine to another. He pointed out that each time the group moved, the same small cluster of UMOs led the way. The experiment demonstrated that the UMOs had a hierarchy of responsibilities, just like honeybees in a colony, including UMO “foragers” that were intelligent enough to anticipate when and where food might appear. These foragers then communicated with the other UMOs to coordinate activity.
Dante tugged on his suit lapels and leaned forward. “Not this week, Jenna. There have been some new developments in the last few days. Rorschach’s mission is all business right now.”
“The Juno incident?” Toffy asked.
While NASA had announced the loss of the probe, and while there had been extensive media speculation about the impact the sudden gamma burst might have on Rorschach’s mission, no one on Amato’s team had publicly commented on the matter. Until now. Dante had been chosen by Amato to deliver A3I’s official comments on the broadcast.
“Yes, that’s right,” he said. “We’ve had to reassess our near-term objectives in light of what happened to Juno.”
He explained the concerns about gamma radiation and its potential effects on the fleet and crew. He touched on magnetars, but on advice from Toffy prior to the show, he kept his description at a high level. He finished up by describing the Recon deployment and the decision to slow down the fleet. “We just want to make sure we know what to expect before Rorschach gets near Callisto. We don’t want to risk the crew getting hurt.”
“I’m sure they appreciate your caution,” Toffy said. “How long will the mission be delayed?”
“That’s hard to say. We’ll know more once we’ve located the source of the gamma burst.”
“How long will that take?”
“Well, it’s going to take the Recons an extra ninety days to reach Callisto without the help of UMOs. Unless they detect and zero in on the gamma source before then, we’re looking at a minimum of six months.”
Dante’s candid assessment had been ordered by Amato. He believed it was important to be as transparent as possible with the public.
“Oh, wow,” Toffy said. “I’m sure a lot of our viewers are disappointed to hear that.”
Dante nodded. “None of us are happy about it, but we have to think of the crew’s safety first and foremost.”
“There’ve been some rumors over the last couple of days suggesting the mission might be scrubbed,” Toffy said. “Any truth to them?”
“We hope not.” Dante held up crossed fingers.
“Same here.” Toffy smiled at the camera with crossed fingers raised as well. Turning back to Dante, she asked, “What will the crew be doing during the delay?”
“Good question, Jenna. We haven’t ironed out those details yet. We might have the crew alter course to explore Ceres. It’s a dwarf planet on the outer edge of the asteroid belt. There’ve also been discussions about conducting a detailed survey of the asteroid belt. Conversations are ongoing.”
As Dante finished speaking he felt his cell phone vibrate in a distinctive three-buzz pattern — indicating a text from the on-duty flight director at Mission Control on Mayaguana.
While Toffy asked another question, Dante reached in his suit jacket and slid the phone out as discreetly as possible. Darting a look at the lock screen, he read the message preview box. It showed a three-digit code.
911.
Augustus Amato’s residence
Winter Park, Florida
Eleven hundred miles away, the same three-buzz pattern pinged Amato’s and Pritchard’s cell phones. Pritchard opened the message first. “Uh-oh.”
After viewing the alert, Amato turned back to the television screen. Though the show was a live broadcast, the network had built in a seven-second broadcast delay and, as a result, Dante was only just now reaching into his pocket. When Dante glanced at his phone, his head snapped up and he leaned forward to whisper to Toffy. She motioned to someone off camera, and the show quickly cut to commercial.
By then, Pritchard had already called Mission Control. He put his phone on speaker and set it on the table in front of Amato. “I’ve got Norris Preston on the line.” Preston was acting mission director in Dante’s absence.
Amato leaned over the speaker. He could hear background chatter and raised voices. “Norris, it’s Mr. Amato. What’s going on?”
“One second, Mr. Amato,” Preston said. “Trying to patch Dr. Fulton in.”
When Dante was connected into the three-way call, Preston said, “We don’t know what happened yet. Everything was fine. No problems. Then, boom. Crazy town. Major sensor alarms, then LOS on more than half the probes.”
Dante’s voice, cool and calm, came through the speaker. “Problem with A3I-TDRS?”
“No, sir,” Preston said. “The relay satellite is operating fine. Problem originated with Rorschach and the rest of the fleet.”
“Have you pinged Rorschach on all bands?” Dante asked.
“Yes, sir. It’s the first thing we did. But it’ll be forty minutes before any return pings come back…assuming they can respond.”
“What about the sensor faults? Did they happen all at once?” Pritchard asked. He turned to Amato. “If they did, could be another software glitch.”
There was a pause on the line, then Preston sighed. “No. The first alerts were from the Recons, then the Shields. Sensor alerts from Rorschach and the Cargos started going nuts shortly after that. We’re putting together a timeline right now.”
“Have someone shoot me a copy of it ASAP,” Dante said. “Send it to Mr. Amato and Dr. Pritchard, too.”
“Roger that.”
Pritchard put the phone on mute. “Sounds like UMOs to me.”
“Or asteroid debris,” Amato said.
Dante probed Preston with more questions. What specific sensors had sent out alerts? Were they the same from each vessel? When was the last scheduled downlink received? Was there anything amiss in the downlink data?
While Amato and Pritchard focused on Norris’ answers, Antonio tapped out a series of text messages. His company, Whave Technologies, had built the drone-landers stored in Rorschach’s cargo bay and, earlier in the day, his technicians at Mission Control had remotely powered on the landers to uplink and test a software upgrade. He was now in the midst of trying to determine whether the landers had reported any sensor faults.
“Mr. Amato?” Dante said.
Amato unmuted the phone. “Yes?”
“I think we have to assume it’s not a software glitch. The sequence and types of alerts — all communications and electrical faults, starting at the leading edge of the fleet and then moving through it — suggest Shilling’s colony. Though I can’t explain why they would have been out front of the fleet. We know they didn’t follow the Recons when they split off on the gamma mission.”
Amato reopened his antacid tin. “Were there any structural failure alarms or life support alerts from Rorschach?”
“No, thank goodness.” Dante paused. “At least, not so far.”
“Sir?” Preston said.
“Yes?” Amato and Dante answered in unison.
“Hold on!” said Norris. “We’re receiving a new downlink from Rorschach!”
Amato exchanged a glance with Pritchard and Antonio and whispered, “Thank God.”
“It’s a message…from Major Carillo.”
“Read it out, man!” Amato practically bellowed.
“Yes, sir,” Preston said.
CCDR-TRE to MAYA-FLIGHT: Fleet attacked by UMOs. Heavy losses. All Recons LOS. Half of Shields. Three Cargos intact but AWOL. Trying to recall them. TRE okay. Mostly electrical shorts. X-band out. All other comms operational. Crew okay. UMO colony gone. Will provide full sitrep as soon as possible. CCDR-TRE out.
Medical bay — the Rorschach Explorer
Drifting at all-stop in the asteroid belt
As Kiera and Shilling headed for the flight deck, Morgan pulled Ajay’s float
ing body to the ship’s medical bay, where he strapped the bony Nepali’s body to a gurney and performed a quick triage. No broken bones or cuts, just a walnut-sized lump on the man’s forehead. Most importantly, he was breathing, though his respiration was shallow.
With care, Morgan slid a silvery cap over Ajay’s wild shock of black hair and fastened it beneath the scraggly patch of hair under his chin. He gently pressed Ajay’s head down until it was flush against the table and flipped a switch to activate the gurney’s magnetic surface. With Ajay adhered to the gurney, Morgan tilted the leg portion of the table up in order to elevate Ajay’s legs and increase the blood flow returning to his heart.
“Hang in there, buddy,” Morgan said, patting Ajay’s shoulder.
Morgan felt a special responsibility for Ajay for a variety of reasons, none greater than the debt of gratitude he owed the amateur astronomer for discovering the radio signals that first led Augustus Amato to send a fleet of probes to Callisto. If not for the young man’s love of the stars, his conviction that the radio signals were something more than electromagnetic interference and his resilience to keep searching for someone to believe him, Morgan was convinced Cetus Prime would never have been found.
And the discovery of the ship had lifted a burden Morgan had carried for twenty-three years. As CAPCOM for the Cetus mission, he had been the crew’s representative in Mission Control — which, in his view, made him the person most responsible for the crew’s welfare. So when Cetus Prime and its crew went missing, Morgan blamed himself. If he had taken a bolder stand with NASA and the Pentagon when UMOs first attacked the ship around Mars, he believed the crew would have returned safely to Earth. Ajay’s discovery had given him a chance for redemption, an opportunity to determine the fate of the Cetus Prime astronauts, and possibly even bring them home.
Now he talked to Ajay in soothing tones until the man’s eyes fluttered open. Morgan tilted the leg portion of the table back to level and retrieved a pulse oximeter and blood pressure device.
Ajay tried to sit up but found himself restrained. “What’s going on?”
“Lie still, you’ve got a nasty lump on your head,” Morgan said. “I need to check you out before you get up.”
He checked Ajay’s pupils and eye movements for evidence of a concussion and monitored his vital signs for several minutes. In between moaning about a headache, Ajay bitched about the restraints the whole time. Morgan ignored the complaints as he peppered Ajay with questions to test his memory.
When he was satisfied that his patient was okay, Morgan unstrapped Ajay and turned off the magnetic table. He handed Ajay some ibuprofen pills for his headache and gave him a cold pack. “Okay, Elroy, let’s go find your other boot and get to the flight deck.”
After taking the ibuprofen, Ajay applied the pack to his forehead. “Roger dodger.”
The two men arrived at the ship’s command center to find the others engrossed in a conversation, but the discussion ceased when they saw Morgan and Ajay. Their expressions were a cross between stern and glum. They perked up upon seeing Ajay was conscious and seemingly in good shape, but their raised spirits appeared to diminish quickly.
“Geez,” Morgan said, “is it that bad?”
“Well, it ain’t good,” said Carillo.
“Give me the rundown.” Morgan buckled into the commander’s seat, and Ajay secured himself at the comms station.
“All the Recons are LOS — I assume they’ve been destroyed,” Carillo said. “Same goes with three of our Shields. The others are still communicating, but they’re damaged. One Cargo is LOS and the other three we used as bait served their purpose. They drew all the UMOs away. It appears they’re still feeding on ions from the engines. I signaled the Cargos to power down, but they didn’t respond, and I haven’t been able to gain control over their thrusters.”
“You’re right. That ain’t good,” Morgan said. He turned to Kiera. “What about Rorschach?”
“We were hit with a crap ton of electrical discharges. A bunch of circuit boards were cooked,” she said. “We have swap-outs in the storage room for the more critical ones, but the rest are going to be a problem. Their replacements are aboard Cargo-4. If we can’t recall it, we won’t be able to swap out the others.”
“Is life support okay?” Morgan asked.
“Yes.”
“Comms?”
Ajay set aside the cold pack, slid on headphones and fiddled with one of the radio transmitters while Carillo provided the update. “X-band is out. We have Ku, S, UHF and HF. I sent a heads-up message to Mayaguana on all but HF about ten minutes ago. It’ll get there in another ten, but the first sensor alerts would have reached them before I even sent the heads-up.”
Morgan turned to Shilling. “What happened, Bob? Why did the colony attack us?”
“They didn’t,” Shilling said. “Matter of fact, they defended us. Bizarre as that sounds.”
Ajay removed his headphones. “Defended us?”
“Yes. They defended us from another colony. There’s no doubt. It’s clear in both the data and video. We were just attacked by a second UMO colony.”
“A second colony?” Morgan said. “Where did it come from?”
“I’m still trying to work that out,” Shilling said.
“Where are our UMOs?”
“The videos of the attack show both colonies went after the Cargos.”
Morgan stroked his mustache while he considered Shilling’s comments. Carillo’s first description of the alarms had indicated there was a situation with the Recons. “How far ahead were the Recons when the first alarm triggered?”
“Two hundred eighty-seven thousand kilometers,” Carillo answered.
“And how long was it between the first Recon alarm and the attack on us?”
“I’d say twenty, twenty-five minutes. No more than that.”
Morgan did the math in his head. Accounting for the fleet’s speed, the distance between the Recons and the fleet, and the time lag between attacks, the second colony of UMOs would have had to travel at over six hundred thousand kilometers per hour to reach Rorschach in twenty-five minutes. He let out a long whistle.
“Yeah, I know,” Carillo said. “They closed on us at tremendous speed.”
“What set them off, Bob? The Recon VLFs?” Morgan asked.
“I know I sound like a broken record, but I don’t know. I need to study the data some more,” Shilling said.
“Well, study it quick. If those things come back, we’re at their mercy.”
“I understand that, Colonel. Believe me, I do.”
Kiera jumped in. “Could they have detected our UMO colony? Could that be why they attacked?”
Shilling shrugged. “It’s possible. The video of the attack did have the look of a classic hive-robbing response.”
“Hive what?” Ajay asked.
“Honeybees are very aggressive when protecting their hive,” Shilling explained. “If they sense a foreign group of bees trying to steal honey from the hive, they’ll fight to the death. It’s quite remarkable to watch.”
The explanation had merit. The second colony would have viewed Rorschach’s UMOs as a threat to its food supply and attacked to eliminate the threat. But why, then, had they attacked the Recons? The ions and VLF radio waves emitted by their engines should have attracted the second colony to feed instead of attack. Morgan pointed this out to Shilling.
“Again, I don’t yet have enough data to posit a theory one way or the other,” Shilling said. “I’m just going off what I saw in the video feed. The attack looked like honeybees protecting a hive.”
“How do you know it wasn’t the other way around?” Kiera asked.
Shilling turned toward her. “Meaning?”
“How do you know the second colony wasn’t after the ions from our engines? Isn’t that sort of our colony’s hive? Their honey?”
“In theory, it’s possible, but I doubt it. As Colonel Morgan noted, they passed up on ions from the Recons and then at
tacked them. Besides, honeybees don’t hive-rob en masse. They send scouts to get the lay of the land and test the hive’s defenses before they press an attack. I think it’s far more likely they viewed our UMOs as a threat.”
With his nasal, dismissive tone, the scientist sounded to Morgan like a preppy country-club fop dressing down a caddie who’d misjudged the line of his putt. Kiera’s face turned red.
So much for the thaw in tensions!
Ajay interrupted the brewing confrontation. “This reminds me of the asteroid belt attack on our CubeSats last year.” He provided a brief summary of the run-in. The CubeSats had been flying through the asteroid belt, just as the fleet was now, and UMOs had appeared out of nowhere and attacked a few of the probes. “Maybe it’s the same UMOs,” he finished.
“Nah, can’t be,” said Kiera. “We entered the belt a long way from the point where our CubeSats did last year. And these UMOs look very different than the ones the Cubes ran into last time.”
Morgan frowned. “Looked different? How?”
“These ones were blue lights. The ones last year were whitish,” Kiera said.
“They were blue?” Morgan said. “Are you sure?”
Carillo, Kiera and Shilling all nodded.
“And you know what’s weirder?” Kiera said.
“What?”
“Our UMOs turned orange when they started fighting.”
After a bit more discussion, Morgan gave the crew their instructions to deal with the aftermath of the attack. He sent Kiera and Ajay to the storage room to retrieve new circuit boards and begin replacing as many of Rorschach’s damaged boards as they could. He asked Carillo to concentrate on recalling the Cargos, marshaling what was left of the Shields and attempting to reestablish comms with the LOS Recons. Then he tasked Shilling with developing a more refined explanation for the attack and to devise a strategy to lure back their own UMOs without attracting the second colony. Shilling questioned the feasibility of the second assignment, but as he departed for the lab compartment to re-examine the feeds of the attack, he agreed to explore options.
Magwave (The Rorschach Explorer Missions Book 2) Page 5
