Far Space (12 page)

Ian remained silent as the conversation carried on a life of its own. The best way to get the man to shut up was to simply let him run his course. Without anyone to argue with, George would eventually grump about the lack of intellectual challenge during the trip and pull out a battered copy of a novel with no cover. Ian had yet to figure out the title and certainly was not about to ask.

While George continued to ramble, Ian let his gaze slide over the interior of the capsule. The transfer vehicle, really only a slightly modified Orion capsule designed and built for NASA’s deep space program, was just over four meters across its circular inside diameter. This, Ian had decided as he strapped in for launch from the Kennedy Space Center, was not nearly big enough for the seven people crammed inside. The hab module offered additional space for three sleeping modules, a toilet, and the food lockers, but if you were not sleeping or taking care of business, there was nothing to do but sit in one of the capsule seats. The exercise equipment had even been removed in favor of additional cargo one team member or another had insisted could not be left behind.

Ian required very little of the storage space. He had only his duffle with a few uniforms and a few personal items. Anything else he would have wanted to bring had been destroyed along with the space elevator. He had not had any time to do any real shopping before the launch. Just about everything,
including the bag itself had come from the Base Exchange or Military Clothing at Patrick Space Corps Station where he had been delivered after his spectacular landing in Brazil.

Ian noticed the capsule had gone silent. He gave a sidelong glance at his neighbor.

George’s nose was buried in his coverless book. Ian wondered if he had offended the man by not paying close attention to his diatribe. He should probably be more considerate. After all, these were the same people he would be spending the next nine months or so with. George, a master engineer of some sort was probably someone he could learn a lot from. It was not just Nubittem, everyone on board was someone Ian could stand to learn a little bit from and each person had a special skill to contribute to the upcoming mission.

This included Jennifer.

Ian thought about his own role. He was merely one of the crew members who would get the specialists across the solar system to their rendezvous with the alien spacecraft everyone was calling Six. Ian wondered if the U.S. Department of Defense would have preferred to keep the existence of Six under wraps. The fact a European probe orbiting Saturn had detected Six and a team of university undergraduates in Paris was running the data analysis virtually guaranteed the find could not be hidden. The news was all over the internet before anyone in authority knew what was going on.

With all the publicity Six was attracting, the retrieval mission had been announced as a sort of reassurance the U.S. government was still able to carry out space missions despite the devastating attack just days ago. Only the commander’s name, Colonel Robert Yates, had been released. Yates, the commander of the ill-fated USS Schriever had been trumpeted as the Hero of Earth Space and Ian was looking forward to finally meeting him in person. Ian wondered how long it would take for the world to get hold of every name and detail of the Cheyenne crew.

The names of the rest of the retrieval crew had not been immediately given out because NASA and the Space Corps had not figured out who they all were. A hasty search had turned up the six passengers onboard Ian’s transport. Only one was a NASA astronaut, a civilian pilot named Nick O’Brian. He was assigned the task of making sure the Orion got to the L5 station. With
the press for qualified personnel after the destruction in orbit, Ian highly suspected the Orion pilot would also be co-opted along with the rest of the passengers to join the Cheyenne crew.

Exact details of the Cheyenne mission had also not been released. Again, mainly because there was very little detail beyond ‘go to Saturn, get Six, come home.’ He and the specialists aboard the Orion were to report to the VAS, get on board the Cheyenne, and get moving. They would make up the rest during the outbound trip.

Having had first-hand experience with the aliens, Ian had one question after his pre-mission briefing, ‘So what are we supposed to do if they shoot at us?’

Ian had pulled everything he could about the Cheyenne from the net as soon as he found out he would be going to Saturn. The spacecraft was designed to be a fast transport between Mars and Earth. It had no weapons and no armor beyond that deemed necessary for micro-meteorite protection. He had also brought this up during his briefing and had been told Six was believed to be permanently disabled and the crew most likely dead. ‘Believed’…’most likely’…none of these phrases particularly comforted Ian.

Right, Ian thought, if they were so helpless, then how did they manage to jump all the way out there after one of our ships scored a direct hit? Ian had absolutely no desire to be within firing range of Six if the Intel weenies were wrong. If whatever Six had for crew had been able to make repairs, he hoped they would do it long before Cheyenne arrived.

Next to its speed, the cargo capacity of Cheyenne was a bonus for this mission.

After performing a direct Saturn burn thanks to its new engine, Cheyenne would rendezvous with Six. If the alien ship was indeed adrift and helpless, the team would perform a quick assessment to determine if the ship was stable enough to transport. This is where the specialists on this flight would come in.

Ian had only glanced at their bios, figuring there would be plenty of time on the outbound flight to get to know them. Each one brought expertise in biology, engineering, materials (George’s specialty), weapons, navigation (Jennifer’s thesis turned out to be a dissertation on the use of pulsars for interplanetary navigation computations), or diplomacy. Ian figured they were
beyond needing the last item on the list, but someone higher up obviously felt differently. He just hoped they each team member would have the required skills and nerve to make the right call if and when the time came.

At least an experienced officer would be leading the mission. Ian had talked to Yates a few times since it was the Schriever he had been heading to before the attack. He also knew Steve Pearl had been on board Schriever. Ian hoped the power and engine specialist was going to Saturn with them. From what his instructors at Peterson had told him, Pearl seemed like the type of guy you wanted by your side when you really needed to know how things worked and how to fix them.

The gathering of talent was mind-boggling. Ian’s thoughts circled around to an issue he had been wondering a lot about lately. Why had a precious seat been given to him on this mission? Here he was, a LT fresh out of pilot school, who on the way to his first assignment, had been forced to eject and parachute back to Earth. Granted, he had made a call which, after the fact, indeed seemed nothing short of heroic. Were the people sending him on the mission expecting him to make similar sorts of judgment calls and follow through? Or was he just a lucky rabbit’s foot – a good luck charm along for the ride?

Heck, maybe he was. From what Ian had just been through and the complete mystery of what was to come, perhaps a little luck was just what the Cheyenne mission needed.

Just as Ian decided it was about time to break out his earphones and dive into a movie he had downloaded onto his new data pad, movement from Jennifer’s end of the capsule caught his eye. He leaned forward watched as Jennifer stretched.

Jennifer blinked a few times and leaned her head from side to side, trying to work out a kink. She noticed the string of saliva dangling from her chin and wiped it away, making a disgusted face as she did so. Jennifer paused in the middle of cleaning off her hand on the empty seat next to her when she noticed Ian staring at her.

Ian gave a small wave.

Jennifer stuck her tongue out at him.

Ian smiled. The Cheyenne mission was going to be great.

Ganymede Research Station #1

Jupiter Space

Wu opened his eyes and looked over at his friend. If he looked as bad as Deng, he did not want to know it. Both had been getting sick from the radiation they were absorbing while in the lightly shielded hopper.

Deng had earlier suggested the long range shuttle might be a better refuge than the hopper. When Wu pointed out there was only one pressure suit to make the trip, Deng insisted on staying with Wu. They had made the concession that someone needed to check out the base though to see if there were any other survivors. It would also be helpful if they could get into any remaining module that might still maintain its atmospheric integrity.

While Deng knew the interior corridors well, it was Wu who was really familiar with the structures around the outside of the base thanks to his time controlling remotes from the operations center. Wu accepted Deng’s suit and, with a promise to return within an hour, left through the airlock at the end of the corridor next to the hopper. Wu noted the batteries powering the airlock were down to twenty percent. He hoped it was enough to get him back in.

Wu headed off over the scarred landing field toward the crater where the main part of the station had been buried. He approached the edge carefully and looked down. The only thing left were a few twisted beams and outer hull sections from the modules which had been joined together to form the station. The crater was at least two hundred meters wide, enough to swallow the core of the station whole.

His heart sank. “There are no habitation modules intact,” Wu reported to Deng.

“Check the shuttle,” Deng replied over the radio. “There should be another suit. Be sure to grab any spare recirculation packs while you’re at it.”

Wu circled the crater, looking for anything which might prove helpful. The access tunnels snaking out over the landing pad were the only structures left standing. Even the shed built to shelter a few pieces of robotic construction equipment had been targeted and destroyed.

The station had one long range, pressurized ground transport vehicle, but it had been knocked over during the attack. Wu hurried over to the vehicle. Even on its side, it would offer more protection than the hopper. He slowed down when he got closer. The side was cracked open. Wu bent to look inside through the thick front windshield. The sight of the frozen hand clawing at the glass was enough for him.

Wu hurried on to the shuttle only to find the same horrible story. Coming around to the entry hatch on the far side, he discovered the engine and mount had been sheared from the main body of the craft. “Well, that explains why they didn’t bother destroying it,” Wu muttered. Still hoping for something to salvage, he mounted the ladder and made his way inside.

The batteries were charged enough to allow him to cycle through the airlock. Wu was dismayed to find there was no need for the lock cycle. The interior of the shuttle was in hard vacuum. He reported the news to Deng.

While Deng continued cursing for five minutes, Wu quickly searched the shuttle. He found two suits. The first was unfortunately being worn by a corpse. The second was stowed with a helmet in the equipment locker behind the co-pilot seat.

“I found the pilot,” Wu said, interrupting Deng. He avoided looking into the dead man’s blackened face as he reached for the man’s rebreather. “Nametag reads Ling. I don’t know him.”

Deng was silent for a moment. When he spoke his voice sounded thick. “That guy owes me money.”

“I’m coming back,” Wu said.

As he was about to leave the shuttle, an idea occurred to Wu. He went back to the flight deck and leaned over Ling’s body. Wu located the long range transmitter and tried the power switch. The hopper had a radio only powerful enough to work through the repeater stations dropped across Ganymede’s surface. It worked like a charm unless the main transmitter, at the Station, got blasted to bits.

Wu waited a second. Sighing, he turned to go.

The light on the console slowly lit up.

It took a moment for Wu to react. “Deng! The radio might still work!”

Wasting no time, Wu keyed in the emergency distress channel and started broadcasting. In his best English, Wu said, “Chinese Research Station One has been…destroyed. I repeat Chinese Research Station One has been destroyed.” He choked on the words as he caught a look at Ling’s bulging eyes. He swallowed hard so as not to vomit in his suit. Wu pressed on, “I’m sending data recorded as the attackers emerged from a gravitational distortion.” He pulled the memory stick from the breast pocket and inserted into the data port. Wu was familiar enough with the equipment to download and send the data. He set the message to repeat, adding, “Please help us. There are two survivors.” He tried to think if there was anything else to say. Nothing helpful came to mind.

Wu listened to the message twice before being convinced it would continue repeating until the shuttle batteries went dead. He went to the exit and did not bother cycling the air lock.

Wu took the long route around the edge of the landing pad. The fuel bladders were half full. Not much good if there was nowhere to go and no long range ship to take you. He looked off in the distance. The bulge marking the burial mound of the self-contained nuclear reactor plant was just visible five kilometers away. Without access to the data grid in the Station, Wu was not sure if the plant had initiated a self-shutdown or not. It probably shut down, Wu thought, as it was designed to do with no feedback from the Station. So, if he and Deng could somehow tap into the power system they would have all the power they wanted. At this point Wu was not sure how that helped them.

Back in the hopper, Wu went over everything he had seen with Deng. He stopped when he realized Deng was not paying attention.

“What’s wrong?” Wu asked.

Deng looked at Wu, his eyes sunken. “Why’d you save me?”

Wu was taken aback for a moment. “Would you rather be dead?” He shouted, his anger flaring.

“It would be better than this slow death you have brought upon us,” Deng shouted back. He turned and stared out the window.