A crew member who started to act strangely after receiving an encrypted message—all kinds of things could be behind this. Perhaps Jiaying’s mother died, or something happened which he could not even begin to imagine, since he knew so little about Jiaying. Human imagination was insufficient to completely fathom human behavior, and he had often experienced this in his life. He even personally knew people who all of a sudden seemed to make a 180-degree turn in their lives, but it never involved a conspiracy, only a drastic event. What might have triggered the Chinese astronaut?
He could well imagine that Martin was going through a rough time because of this. The tabloids had been hinting at some ‘on-board relationship’ between the two, though he had no idea how the journalists got their information. Maybe the pain of the breakup made his son see connections where none existed.
Even if that was the case, what should he tell Martin? Robert was very happy about reestablishing some tentative contact with his only child. If he rejected this request, how would his son react? Martin probably expected a lot from this message, and unfortunately Robert knew too little about his own son. Perhaps there are not many people in the world he can ask for help? thought Robert.
No, he could not simply reject Martin’s request for help, though he might get in hot water as a result. He would even do more than what he was asked to do, and in this way hopefully protect himself and his son. First, he downloaded the planned course data for ILSE from the NASA database. This was child’s play for him. He translated the positions into control commands for the radio dish. As seen from Earth, the spaceship appeared to be hardly moving, even though it might be traveling at a speed of about 70 kilometers per second. Every day, the antenna would have to be slightly adjusted. This was not the only antenna dish listening in on ILSE’s radio traffic, since institutions worldwide were also interested in it. No one could blame him for recording and forwarding encrypted messages. As long as he did not try to crack the encryption there was no problem. In the end, he didn’t know about his son trying to crack it, did he?
Millikan could think of two other ways that he might be able to help his son.
First there was Devendra Singh Arora, the Sikh astronaut, who after a training accident became the CapCom for the ILSE mission, the person directly communicating with the astronauts on board. Robert had corresponded with him several times previously and had been able to give Devendra important information. By now, the CapCom would trust him. If there really was a conspiracy at NASA, Devendra as a former fellow astronaut would be the last one to be part of it. Therefore Robert could trust him.
He started to write a message to the CapCom. At first he wondered how much he should tell him, but then he decided to tell him everything. Otherwise he would run the risk of losing credibility at some point. Therefore he first described what his son saw and noticed.
This is what my son wrote. To be honest, I don’t know what to make of it, but I trust Martin. And, I also trust you as a good friend to keep this solely between us and that you will try your best to resolve this issue. If you come acrross any worthwhile clues or hints for me in your pursuit, then I would greatly apprreciate a speedy answer. If you find that you can only laugh about this, please delete the email.
Thank you very much.
Yourrs truly,
Robert Millikan
He glanced over the text and corrected a few typos—the ‘r’ key was occasionally sticking again—and then sent the message. Would he receive an answer?
Now to the next step, concerning his personal suspicion Jiaying was acting so differently due to an exterior factor. What might that be? If there was some event, shouldn’t it be possible to find traces of it? This might not solve Martin’s problem directly, but it would help him deal with it. Perhaps together they would find a solution that had not occurred to Jiaying?
Robert started researching Jiaying on the internet. Right away he came across the first obstacle—most of the texts were from Chinese media. It wasn’t the language that slowed him down, for with one click an almost perfectly translated English version appeared on his monitor screen. The problem was more related to publication restrictions there. Jiaying, as he quickly saw, was some kind of national hero. This meant there were only positive stories about her. Various media had long ago dug up negative things about the crew members from other countries, but not all of it might be true. When he accessed such pages his computer automatically displayed large question marks in the background, even after he agreed to read questionable information at his own risk. Yet Jiaying, it seemed, led a clinically clean life. This had to be the work of the Chinese censors.
How could he get closer to the real Jiaying despite the Chinese censorship? She obviously was childless—at least there was no information about her having any children. But she must have parents. Maybe something had happened to them that pushed her off-course, and she felt responsible for it? Despite Li being a very common surname, Robert Millikan managed to find their first names relatively quickly: Bailong and Chen Lu. They were, as official sources stated, from the provinces where the father excelled as a construction foreman while the mother, a seamstress, had prepared her daughter for a career in the army.
On a People’s Liberation Army information website, Jiaying was allowed to write about her family. She told readers about her mother’s hobbies—she was very good at drawing—and how her father used to carry her on his shoulders during the Day of Proletarian Struggle, where she saw a glorious sea of red flags around her. Revolutionary propaganda, Robert thought. Does anyone still believe in this?
He tried to limit his searches to specific periods. The reports he found were clustered from early to mid-January, then other topics took center stage. How about video formats? He called up YouKu, the hosting service ranked first in almost all of Asia. If her parents appeared anywhere, it certainly would be shown here. Youku seemed to have important connections, as politically-influential people always showed up here first, and sometimes only here. However, the Li family did not seem to be interested in such appearances. He could imagine the reason for their indifference. Their daughter’s career as an astronaut must have totally changed the lives of her parents, who were now well into their sixties.
The only thing he found was an announcement stemming from an article published in mid-January. On February 13th, Youku stated the Li couple—parents of the glorious taikonaut Jiaying Li—were going to be on a popular science show produced by the service. The announcement was all he found—there was no trace of them ever having been on the show. What had Martin written about the date Jiaying started acting strangely? Robert checked the message again. February 7th was the day things changed. A TV appearance by the parents on the 13th never materialized. Was this just pure coincidence, or did it mean something?
It’s a definite clue, Robert thought. If he had the parents’ address or any contact information, he might touch base with them to ask how they were doing. Try as he might, though, he could not find any such information. Perhaps these provincials couldn’t handle modern technology. Might there be former classmates who still kept in contact with Jiaying and knew something about the parents’ whereabouts? Robert then concentrated his search on Jiaying’s school years. He ended up in the Chinese sports promotion system and was glad it was so well-organized. He found result tables for the track and field events Jiaying had participated in back then. He also noticed she had been defeated by the same girl three years in a row. Only in the fourth year did Jiaying manage to turn the tables. Shouldn’t such a rivalry have left some traces?
Shuilian, meaning ‘water lily.’ What a pretty name for a girl, who by now was a grown woman. Robert was in luck. He found her as Shuilian Li in various publications where she nostalgically reminisced about her past rivalry with the now famous Jiaying. Like Jiaying, Shuilian must have joined the army after graduating, and she seemed to have been somewhat successful there. There was no specific information about her army career, as this was a taboo subject, but h
e found a private email address Shuilian used to reply to comments others made.
Robert touched his forehead, which felt warm. His tongue was dry, and he got himself a sip of water. What should he tell this Shuilian? How could he inconspicuously ask about Jiaying’s parents?
Robert Millikan decided to stick with the strategy he had been successful with—he wrote her the truth. It sounded simple, but then he didn’t know this woman at all. Each truth can be phrased this way or that way. She must not think of him as a crackpot, but she also must not take his message so seriously as to hand it over to the police. It took Robert until midnight before he had a smooth draft, which hopefully would still be easy to read after the machine translation. He introduced himself, described the relationship between his son and Jiaying and how it had recently changed, and then asked whether he could send her a few personal questions through some confidential channel in order to understand the situation better.
He sent the message at exactly 12:05 a.m. If Shuilian was in Eastern China, as he assumed—according to his research she lived in Shanghai—then it would be five minutes past noon of the same day there. He did not expect a quick answer from her, but this assumption proved wrong. Just as he was about to turn off the computer, a new message showed up in his inbox. It was encrypted. He opened it with his private key, thus also confirming his own identity.
The text was written in perfect English.
Sender: Shuilian Li
Subject: Meeting
Message: Dear Mr. Millikan, your message really touched me. I often think of Jiaying. We were not just competitors, but also friends, in a very special way. I believe Jiaying thought the same. As I am currently on an official trip in the USA, I would like to meet you personally. Then I should also be able to allay your worries concerning Jiaying’s parents. Please let me know what time would suit you. I have already researched your address. As I am very interested in space, I would really like to visit you. My job gives me enough freedom to do this.
Regards,
Li Shuilian
March 19, 2047, Mission Control
“Good night, sweetie!”
Devendra Singh Arora ended the phone connection, and now his daughter would go to bed. Earlier he had told his family he was working a night shift. His wife knew the truth. He was staying in the office longer because he wanted to think. He was really glad about the accident that had occurred on Valkyrie back then, the one which forced him to stay behind on Earth. At the time, he had no idea what he would be missing now, but he must have suspected it. These days, he could not even imagine trying to survive the loneliness of being on board a spaceship.
He looked at the desk opposite his own. Ellen worked there as the Data Processing Systems Specialist for ILSE. Everyone always called her Dipsy, the nickname of the job title. She had agreed to stay longer and help him think. Even though his wife knew about Ellen and their working late some nights at the office, she wasn’t jealous in the least. He considered himself really lucky.
Ellen noticed his glance and smiled at him.
“The others are gone,” she said. “Now we are undisturbed. Should I lock the door, just in case?”
Devendra laughed. “I... I wanted to hear your expert opinion.”
“What is this all about?” asked Ellen.
“It is complicated. Do you think—I do not quite know how to phrase it—there might be people who communicate with ILSE… over our heads?”
Ellen slowly shook her head and replied, “Without Mission Control’s knowledge? How would it work?”
“Well, we at NASA aren’t the only ones with large radio dishes,” Devendra said. “While our codes and protocols are not public, other agencies have access to them during missions. Just to ensure our safety, you know.”
“Could be true, but why should they be interested in the International Expedition? Don’t they get all the data we receive anyway?”
“Perhaps they evaluate these data differently. There are rumors about hardliners in the administration—hawks who are scared of anything new.”
“You forgot this is the result of a worldwide cooperation. If they interfere, there would be international repercussions.”
“There are probably similar hardliners in other countries, and if they allied themselves... Remember the North Korea mission a while back. Were they afraid of how the world would react? If the Chinese hadn’t remained so calm...”
“So you suspect one of the intelligence agencies is plotting against ILSE?”
“I would not go that far. I am just wondering if this is within the realm of possibility.”
“Anything is possible.” Ellen nodded. “But you must have some specific reason for believing this, don’t you?”
“Indeed, I do.” He described the strange message sent by Robert Millikan.
Ellen remembered the name at once. “The man can be trusted, that’s for sure.”
“True,” Devendra replied. “And there is no denying Jiaying is acting very strangely. Up to now I thought this was a case for a psychologist, but there might be more tangible reasons.”
“But how can we help in this case? Can we do it at all? Should we?”
“To me, the idea of someone influencing the mission behind our backs, perhaps even undermining all of our efforts, is not only alarming but quite repulsive. I really would like to do something about it.”
Ellen stood up and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Her eyes blazed and her cheeks were flushed. “I feel the same,” she said. “The idea of the possibility really makes me mad.”
Devendra had never seen his colleague so angry. She was the most cheerful person he knew. “Of course, this is all speculation, since we have no solid proof. But I have an idea how to find proof.”
“Hmm... sounds like you will need me for it.” Ellen was right. Devendra flushed and felt he had been caught out. “Don’t worry, I know you would have told me anyway,” she said.
“Good.” Devendra relaxed a little. “It concerns the deletion log. The encrypted message that Jiaying received was deleted by the authority of the commander. This means either Amy is part of the conspiracy...”
“…or the authorization was forged,” Ellen added. “I don’t like either option.”
“I thought you as the Dipsy could track this down better than I could.”
“You might be right, Devendra.”
“Do you have a suspect yet?”
Ellen uttered a short laugh. “Ten seconds after you told me about all of this? I am quite flattered by your confidence in me. Let me think out loud. I cannot really believe Amy would endanger the expedition.”
“That’s for sure. But what if her actions are necessary for the expedition, but for some reason unknown to us? Would she break laws in order to protect the ship?”
Ellen tilted her head from side to side as she pondered without speaking. Silence reigned for several minutes. Devendra could clearly smell the floor cleaner the cleaning crew used in here. The air conditioning hummed loudly.
“We can’t look inside the commander’s head,” Ellen finally said. “But we can check whether the authorization to delete the message was genuine. As DPS I have sufficient access rights for it.”
“Would you do that for me? It would be great.”
“Sure, it’s my job after all, no big deal. Now go home. Your family is waiting. I am going to use the peace and quiet to do some research.”
Devendra felt guilty when he closed the office door behind him. He was to blame for his colleague working overtime. He really would have to thank her for it. Maybe he would bring her a bouquet of flowers tomorrow.
March 20, 2047, ILSE
“I would like to make a suggestion.”
Caught off guard, Martin wondered, Am I really hearing this? He turned toward Jiaying, and the others also looked at her in surprise. Was she ending her silence?
“Do not give me those strange looks—any of you,” she said, but did not attempt to go on.
“Jiaying, we would like to hear your suggestion,” Amy said. “Sorry about your colleagues.”
The Chinese astronaut gave a slight smile, but still hesitated. It appeared she was searching for the right words.
“It is about the landing on Io,” she finally said. She spoke softly, but clearly. “I am concerned about Marchenko giving the crew only one week on the surface.”
“Only one week? We shouldn’t need more than a day or two and then we’ll take off for our return flight to Earth!” exclaimed Martin. His words sounded a bit harsher than he’d intended.
“Something could always come up,” Jiaying explained. “One week does not offer enough safety in case of emergency. You saw on Titan how quickly an incident can happen.”
“But even on Titan we didn’t need a whole week.”
“And what if the wall had managed to lock in the lander? It was a close call.”
Martin remembered it quite well. If Jiaying had not forced Amy to let her use the laser as a lure, they might not have managed to return to space. He had to admit Jiaying was right to be cautious. It did not matter, though, he still felt like contradicting her. He squeezed his fingers against the edge of the table and forced himself not to utter a reply.
The others did not say anything. Finally the commander spoke up. “So what do you suggest?”
“I would like the lander to have an active radiation-protection system. A mini-magnetosphere, like the ship has. Then the lander could operate independently for as long as necessary.”
“And where do we get the energy for it?” This obvious question came to mind at once for Martin, but Hayato was the first to pose it. The batteries or the lander’s engines could not maintain such a protective shield for more than a few minutes.
“ILSE’s fusion drives will supply the energy,” Jiaying replied. “One of them should be sufficient—just like we did on Enceladus.”
The Io Encounter: Hard Science Fiction (Ice Moon Book 3) Page 9