A sudden urge to fire up the engines, punch through the BLUMOs and turn for Earth overtook Kiera. But then a thought occurred to her.
She turned to Ajay. “What are they waiting for?”
“Huh?”
“Why haven’t they attacked us?” Kiera asked. “I mean, we’re sitting ducks. They’ve wiped out all our probes. We’re all alone. Why haven’t they finished us off?”
“I dunno,” Ajay said. “I don’t wanna know.”
The longer Kiera pondered her own question, the stranger the BLUMOs’ behavior seemed. If Shilling had been right about the aliens drawing Rorschach into a kill zone, their pack hunt had accomplished its mission. Why hadn’t they moved in for the kill? Then again, how would destroying Rorschach feed the BLUMOs?
It didn’t take long before she conjured an answer, turning her earlier pang of regret into full-blown nausea. Had Shilling inadvertently given them what they wanted when he turned on the ship’s engines? He thought he was escaping, but perhaps he was actually feeding the BLUMOs. Was that why they had surrounded the ship? Were they waiting for another crack at Rorschach’s electromagnetic honey?
Yet Ajay had said the BLUMOs had destroyed the Cargo Shilling had tried to use to lure them away. They could have had all the ions they wanted if they had just followed the probe like they did the first time. Even if the BLUMOs found Cargo-2’s ion output meager in comparison to Rorschach’s, why destroy it?
A ping sounded, and Ajay said, “We have an uplink coming in from Maya. Wait, there’s more than one.”
The first file was small and downloaded quickly. It was a message from Dante. Ajay opened and read it to Kiera. “MAYA-FLIGHT to FE-TRE: Have detected fleet alarms. Report status ASAP. Important instructions to follow. MAYA-FLIGHT out.”
Another short message followed. “MAYA-FLIGHT to FE-TRE: Additional transmissions following, including (1) Maya-NASA analysis of BLUMO intentions; (2) Recommended BLUMO action plan; (3) Further medical guidance re: CDR and CCDR injuries; Review all ASAP. MAYA-FLIGHT out.”
“Thank God someone has an action plan,” Kiera said, “because we sure don’t!”
While they waited for the other uplinked files, she typed out a reply to Dante’s first message. FE-TRE to MAYA-FLIGHT: TRE nominal but surrounded by large BLUMO colony. Fleet LOS. CDR, CCDR and MSRS incapacitated. FE and MSAJ unharmed. Will review Maya files and implement Maya BLUMO recommendations and med guidance ASAP. FE-TRE out.”
Colonel Paul Morgan’s cabin — the Rorschach Explorer
A voice calling his name stirred Morgan awake.
“Colonel Morgan, wake up, please.”
Morgan cracked open his eyelids to see a blurry shadow looming over him.
“Colonel Morgan? It’s me, Ajay. Please wake up.”
Morgan squinted as he tried to adjust to the light. “Where am I? What’s going on?”
A hand patted him on the shoulder. “You’re in your cabin. You’ve been asleep.”
As Morgan became more conscious of his surroundings, his memory kicked into gear. The cargo bay. Julia. “Where’s Julia?”
“She’s in the med bay,” Kiera said.
Morgan’s head turned in the direction of Kiera’s voice. He blinked several times to clear his vision. In slurred speech, he said, “I feel drunk.”
“Sorry. We gave you a sedative,” she said. “You kept trying to pull off the oxygen mask and yank out your IV.”
He began to recall details of the rescue attempt. “How long have I been out?”
“Eight hours, give or take,” said Ajay.
Morgan tried to raise his head but found it difficult to move. “Julia. How is she?”
“She’s still asleep,” Kiera said.
“That’s not an answer. What’s her condition?” Morgan growled.
Kiera’s voice was soft and reassuring. “She’s hanging in there.”
Morgan attempted to sit up but found his arms and legs restrained. “Can we lose the straps, please? I feel like I’ve been glued to the bed.”
“Hold on, we’ve got you wrapped up in a thermal bag.” Keira explained that the bag had been necessary because Morgan had exited the airlock so fast on his way to help Carillo, he hadn’t given his spacesuit time to heat up. By the time they reached him in the airlock after he returned, his body temperature had fallen to dangerous levels.
With the straps and blanket bag removed, Morgan floated off the bed. Kiera and Ajay guided him back down, and Kiera activated the GEFF platform beneath the mattress. Morgan felt the subtle tug of the magnetic forcefield on his flight suit. He arced an arm toward his face and wiped at his eyes, hoping to push away the cloudy haze. The movement caused a sharp pain to shoot down his arm. “Ah, damn. That hurt like a mother.”
“Take it easy, Skywalker,” Ajay said. “Remember, you do have the bends.”
A wave of dizziness swept over Morgan. “Oh, yeah,” he said sarcastically. “Thanks for reminding me.”
His vision continued to improve, and now he could see Kiera sitting next to him on the bunk and Ajay standing beside her. Their expressions were grim. Putting two and two together, Morgan said, “Something’s wrong with the ship.”
“Not exactly,” Kiera said.
“Where’s Shilling?”
“He’s…um…resting,” said Ajay.
“Well, something’s the matter. You guys look like you’re headed for the gallows.” Morgan sat up. The room began to spin. He clamped his eyes shut and gripped the edges of the bunk platform.
“We have a bit of a situation,” Kiera said. “We need your help.”
“What kind of situation?”
“BLUMOs,” said Ajay.
Morgan opened his eyes. “Did they attack again?”
Both Kiera and Ajay nodded. Their expressions were pained, the kind worn by bearers of bad news. And both seemed reluctant to speak.
“I’m not a porcelain doll, people. Give it to me straight. What’s going on?”
Ajay darted a look to Kiera as he answered. “The fleet’s gone. The BLUMOs have us surrounded.”
Morgan occupied his seat on the flight deck with Kiera and Ajay following close behind. When they were all buckled in at their stations, Kiera kicked off the briefing.
“They’ve formed a ball around us,” she said. She pulled up an image from the ship’s radar, showing the electromagnetic mass around the ship, and sent it to the other stations’ monitors.
Morgan looked out the flight deck windows. “At least we can see them this time. How far out are they?”
“Approximately a quarter kilometer. Maya’s aware of the situation. They received the fleet sensor alerts, and I sent them a brief sitrep. They sent us their interpretation of the BLUMOs’ actions and some recommendations. You should go through the files.”
“Give me the highlights.”
“They think the BLUMOs scanned Major Carillo.”
Morgan frowned. “Scan? That didn’t look like a scan to me.”
Kiera summarized the BLUMO analysis linking the encounters experienced by Nick Reed and Carillo. When she reached the part about the Callistons, Morgan interrupted. “They think we’re Callistons?”
“It sounds nuts, I know, but the report is compelling.”
“And there’s more,” Ajay said. “Let’s play him the VLF audio.”
“VLF?” Morgan asked.
As Ajay typed in a string of commands, Kiera said, “Yeah, this one was a stretch for me, but damn if they weren’t right.”
“Right about what?”
“On a hunch, Mayaguana suggested we turn on our VLF receiver to see if the BLUMOs were trying to talk to us,” Ajay said. “You know, the whole Cetus Prime thing about Nick Reed building a VLF antenna.”
Morgan blinked several times as he processed this. Then he understood. Nick had used the antenna to attract the UMOs.
Ajay handed him a headset. “Listen to this.”
Morgan donned the headset and closed his eyes.
The rec
ording began with a series of eerie, high-pitched whines. They reminded Morgan of the sound of race cars zooming past microphones. And then, from among the whines, another sound arose.
Morgan opened his eyes and removed his headset. “That sounds just like a whale.”
Ajay smiled. “Cool as hell, isn’t it? That is, cool as hell if we weren’t about to be dinner.”
“Bad mojo, Elroy,” Kiera said. “Don’t say it. Don’t even think it. We don’t know if that’s their plan.”
“What makes you think they have a plan?” Morgan asked.
“If you listen to the full VLF recording, you’ll hear a second whale sing,” Kiera said. “We think the second one’s a UMO queen on Callisto answering the BLUMO queen.”
“That’s right,” Ajay said. “We think the BLUMO queen’s been told to keep us hemmed in until the other one shows up.”
Morgan frowned. “A second queen? From Callisto? Coming here? Those are some pretty big leaps.”
“Not when you look at the data,” Kiera said.
“All right. Enlighten me.”
“Well, first of all,” Kiera said, “the BLUMOs haven’t done anything since forming the ball around us. They’re just flying along, sort of escorting us inside their ball. Second, there’ve been several exchanges between the whale singers, and the time gap between the songs has been shrinking, suggesting—”
“Okay, I get it.” Morgan didn’t need any further explanation. Radio signals travel at the speed of light, so if you know how long it took for a transmitted radio signal to be received, you can calculate the distance it’s traveled. Singer A belts out a whale song. Some amount of time later, Singer B answers. Presuming there isn’t a lot of UMO “think” time going on in between Song A and Song B, a narrowing gap of time between rounds of songs implies the singers are moving closer to one another.
“Another queen’s on her way to us,” Morgan said, “presumably traveling with another colony of UMOs. But what makes you think they’re UMOs from Callisto?”
“We calculated the distance of the first song exchange,” Kiera said. “Our VLF antenna isn’t directional, so we don’t know which direction the second queen’s response came from, but we do know our position at the time the BLUMO queen called the other one. With that as a starting point, we used the navigational system to plot a sphere of the right distance around that position.”
Morgan darted his eyes from Kiera to the grinning Ajay. “No effing way! The sphere cuts across Callisto?”
Ajay nodded with gusto.
Kiera said, “It’s not conclusive. The sphere also bisects two slices of the asteroid belt about 400 million kilometers apart…and the innermost boundary of the sphere comes close to Mars’ current position. Plus, we don’t know how long they were singing to each other before we started recording, but it is awful curious the outer boundary of the sphere touched Callisto.”
“And don’t forget, we’re headed toward Callisto,” Ajay added. “And the time gap between songs is narrowing. So, you see, we need your help to get ready.”
“Ready for what?” Morgan asked.
“To sing to the Callisto queen…and pray she’s not coming to eat,” Ajay said.
Kiera glared at him. “What did I tell you about that? So help me, you keep bringing up dinner and I’ll make sure she eats you first.”
Ajay swiped two fingers across his closed lips.
Kiera returned her attention to Morgan. “We’ve sent an update to Mayaguana with the recordings. They haven’t responded yet, but we’d rather not wait for their answer. I need to start prepping for the EVA.” She relayed Mayaguana’s plan to deploy the VLF transmitting antenna through the docked Cargo. “They gave us step-by-step instructions. I’m pretty sure we can do it, but we didn’t want to start without your buy-in.”
“All right, let me read all the files, including the instructions,” Morgan said. “But if there’s an EVA required, I’ll be the one doing it.”
“No bueno, Skywalker,” Ajay said with a shake of his head. “You’re grounded for at least another sixteen hours. Flight surgeon’s orders. Gotta get your O2 back up. We can’t afford to lose you, especially with Major Carillo and Dr. Shilling out of commission.”
“And besides,” Kiera said, “I’m the smallest. It’ll be easier for me to maneuver inside the Cargo than either of you.”
“Wait a minute,” Morgan said. “What’s wrong with Shilling? You said he was resting.”
Ajay looked suddenly sheepish. “Uh…not exactly.”
CHAPTER 11: QUEEN ON DECK
Aboard Sol Seaker
Port Denarau, Fiji
September 4, 2019 (September 5 on Fiji)
Jennifer turned the corner and ran through the marina entrance, waving to the security guard as she passed. With only a few hundred yards to go until she reached Sol Seaker’s berth, she quickened her pace to a sprint. Impeded by stiff headwinds, she lowered her head and dug deep for the final stretch.
Crossing an imaginary finish line by the ship’s gangway, she stopped the timer on her watch and slowed to a walk. She anchored her hands on her hips and proceeded past Sol Seaker to the end of the dock, drawing in gulps of salty air.
As she turned to make her way back to the gangway, she spotted one of the ship’s stewards waving to her. Jennifer smiled and waved back. The steward’s face turned stern, his waving more animated.
He then cupped his hands around his mouth and called to her. “Hurry!”
Jennifer immediately thought of Pebbles. The preceding summer and fall she had experienced a torrent of nightmare-like visions. Fearing a relapse, Jennifer took off running. When she reached the ramp, she pounded up its length and met the steward at the top. He was more out of breath than Jennifer.
“I didn’t know…if I should wake…Dr. Cully,” he said.
“Is it Pebbles? Is she having a seizure?”
“No. Follow me!”
The steward grabbed her wrist and led her to the ship’s bridge. In the sleek cabin full of computer screens, dials and gauges, two other members of the superyacht’s crew were watching a television mounted on the wall behind the captain’s chair.
The steward pointed at the TV. “You know these people, right?”
On the screen, Jenna Toffy was standing outside a building. The word “LIVE” flashed in the lower right corner, and a picture of the Rorschach Explorer appeared in an inset. The audio was muted, but a crawler at the bottom read:
WNN Exclusive: Tragedy Strikes Rorschach Explorer…astronauts Morgan, Carillo and UMO expert Dr. Shilling incapacitated…probe fleet destroyed…Rorschach surrounded by hostile UMOs…Mayaguana has lost communication with the ship…its position and status are unknown…
“Can you turn up the sound?” Jennifer said.
The steward grabbed the remote. “I overheard you guys talking about your phone call with Mission Control over dinner last night. Thought Dr. Cully might want to know about it right away. Should I wake him?”
“I’ll take care of it,” Jennifer said. “Let me watch a little first. I want to hear what Toffy has to say.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The sound came on, and Toffy’s voice broadcast through the bridge.
“…repeated attempts, there has been no comment from Augustus Amato, flight director Dr. Dante Fulton, or anyone else from A3rospace Industries. The company and its founder have come under blistering criticism for their silence since the first signs of trouble surfaced three days ago.
“One of the most vocal critics has been Dr. Richard Collins, chairman of the advocacy group Concerned Scientists for Equal Access to Space. Dr. Collins joins us now to share his view on these sobering developments…”
Jennifer asked the steward to retrieve her smart tablet from her cabin while she continued to watch the program. When he returned, Jennifer navigated to her go-to news website for more details. The top headline flashed in red: WNN’s Toffy Blows Lid Off Rorschach Explorer Cover-Up.
She rea
d the opening paragraphs:
Jenna Toffy, WNN ace reporter and host of Expedition to Callisto, took to the airwaves shortly before noon today to levy charges of cover-up against A3rospace Industries and its founder, Augustus Amato, for their efforts to hide a serious crisis aboard the Rorschach Explorer.
Aided by an anonymous source with intimate knowledge of the mission, Toffy produced a series of internal documents and communications revealing the depth of the crisis and A3rospace Industries’ frantic attempts to provide assistance.
Jennifer’s attention was drawn to a boxed quotation. Its headline read #nothumbsuckerhere is Rorschach’s Last Hope, and the quote itself read as follows:
FE-TRE to MAYA-FLIGHT: TRE nominal but surrounded by large BLUMO colony. Fleet LOS. CDR, CCDR and MSRS incapacitated. FE and MSAJ unharmed. Will review Maya files and implement Maya BLUMO recommendations and med guidance ASAP. FE-TRE out.
Jennifer had seen enough. She thanked the steward and headed for Anlon’s cabin. While Pebbles would no doubt bitch about the early wake-up, Anlon would want to reach out to Amato right away.
The pack hunters had closed in for the kill.
Cargo bay — the Rorschach Explorer
Flying through the asteroid belt
An uneasy feeling gnawed at Morgan as he cranked open the door to the airlock connecting the main cabin and the cargo bay. It was the kind of feeling that creeps its way into the back of your mind and finds a place to hide — and then, once it realizes it’s safe, it begins to reproduce and spread to other parts of the brain. You can try to ignore its whispers but, at some point, you can’t help but listen. And once that happens, once the feeling senses it has an audience, the whispers grow louder. Eventually the feeling takes over, shouting down any thought that dares to intercede.
Magwave (The Rorschach Explorer Missions Book 2) Page 15
