Ice Moon 4 Return to Enceladus

by Brandon Q Morris

  Just a moment. There were other sensors monitoring the environment. The pressure gauge, for instance. If he managed to cause a loss of pressure, an alarm would be triggered, causing the system to pump fresh air into this sector. At least he hoped so. Yet, how could he quickly create a hole in the outer hull, which was 30 centimeters thick and designed to withstand the impact of smaller meteorites? If he had the big drill from the workshop up here... if, if, if.

  Martin did not have a drill, and if he instead threw a chair against the wall, that would only create a few scratches in the wall covering. He needed another idea, but he could not focus, because his head was about to burst and the contents of his stomach really wanted to come up. He held onto the wall and went to the WHC. Maybe he would feel better after throwing up. He stuck a finger down his throat and managed to direct a few chunks of his last meal and a lot of gastric juices into the toilet. The sour smell made him vomit again.

  Too bad there were no nausea sensors reporting his problems to the medical ward. What about smell? There were smoke detectors in the corridors. Could he trigger an alarm there? But how could you light a fire in space? Of course smoking on board was strictly prohibited. He would hardly find matches or lighters. The methods Martin learned back on Earth during survival training would be useless here. Yet, there were chemicals that caused strong reactions, and he thought about those while his head was being squeezed as if by a huge, invisible fist.

  They might have strong acids or bases on board, but not here in the living quarters. He turned around. What did the WHC have to offer? He remembered the first aid kit, and reached below the toilet into the cabinet that was marked with a red cross. He recalled that the Russian-supplied kit actually still contained potassium permanganate as a disinfectant.

  As a kid he used to treat his aquarium fish against parasites with small doses of this chemical, and he still knew what happened when you mixed it with sugar. Now he just needed sugar! He still had a bit of dark chocolate in his cabin, but that would not work. Where could he find sugar? And could the oxygen content be decreasing further?

  He was breathing faster and faster, but the fatigue that lured him back to bed only increased. Amy! Amy liked to make tea in her cabin. She had an electric kettle, tea bags, and probably lumps of sugar in there. He walked as fast as he could next door, where the commander lived. He opened the door to her cabin. Amy lay on the bed, tossing and turning. It stank in here, so she must have already vomited, and he did not have time to try to wake her. The electric kettle stood on a shelf, and next to it was a bowl with several heart-shaped pieces of sugar. I hope these are not presents from Hayato, he thought, but Amy will have to forgive me if I use them to save her life.

  Martin grabbed the sugar and wanted to run into the corridor when his knees suddenly gave way. He could not go on. It would be better to lie here, right on the floor, and take a nice nap. Afterward, things will look better. My headache will be gone, and everything is going to be alright. Everything is going to be alright—no—shit, it won’t be alright. I have to get out of here—now. Take sugar and potassium whatchamacallit, crawl out, start fire. He put one of the sugar hearts in his mouth. The sweet taste appeared to give him new strength, and he made it into the corridor. It was quite simple: Mix sugar and the potassium whatchamacallit, add water. He spat on the small pile. Smoke abruptly appeared. It’s working! The reaction is starting!

  A tiny fire grew, only a microscopic one, and he did not have enough chemicals for a larger one. The smoke detector was on the ceiling, and Martin became desperate. He looked up, but the blinking LED on the smoke detector remained green. It was over—he should just lie down and go to sleep. There were worse ways to die. Then he heard a rattling breath.

  Someone was walking toward him in the corridor. It was Francesca. She looked awful, but she managed to stay upright. She saw what he had done on the floor and that he had failed, but she immediately had a solution. She grabbed the burning mixture with her bare hand, stretched out her arms, and pressed it against the smoke detector. Even though the pain must have been immense, she remained calm, almost like she did not even seem to care. The green LED turned off and a red light came on. A piercing alarm rang out, so loud that Martin had to cover his ears even though he was down on the floor. Francesca let go. She looked at her hands, fell back against the wall of the corridor, and slid down. At the same time, small hatches opened in the ceiling and sprayed water, while the air conditioning came on, trying to pump the smoke of the fire out of the area and to replace it with fresh air.

  Age of Ascent, 28

  There was:

  The all-encompassing.

  The tiniest.

  One and all, yours and mine.

  Interferences, coincidences, and guilt.

  There is:

  Heat. Depth. Height. Cold.

  Fire and smoke.

  Water and steam.

  A hole in the shell.

  There will be:

  Causalities.

  Culprits.

  A hole in space.

  April 4, 2049, ILSE

  “There can be only one possible conclusion—it was her. I mistrusted her from the very beginning.” Francesca could no longer stay seated, and with her bandaged right hand she pointed at Valentina, who just silently shook her head. The tracks left by the tears on her face revealed that the Russian woman was quite affected by this trial. Naturally, it was not an actual court of law, but the roles were distributed in a similar manner. Francesca, who currently suffered most, was the plaintiff, Martin and Jiaying were witnesses, while the commander had to play the role of the judge. Martin could see that Amy disliked doing so. It was only Marchenko’s function that was not clearly defined. He was acting as something like a detective working for the court. Martin trusted him to remain objective while doing his job.

  “We should first collect the facts before making accusations,” Amy said.

  “Recently, I have had trouble sleeping,” Martin explained. “When I awoke in the middle of the night I noticed the oxygen content of the air was much too low. Furthermore, we were cut off from any communication. You know how we solved the problem, but it was really a narrow escape.”

  “According to my data, the oxygen content of the air in the habitat ring was correct until the fire alarm was triggered,” Marchenko said, whose face appeared on the fog display.

  “Are you trying to say we just imagined it? That it was a collective hallucination?” asked Francesca passionately, glaring at him.

  “Not at all. I am saying the person or persons responsible for it managed to completely block me from that part of the ship.”

  “Do you have any idea how it was done?” asked Amy.

  “Yes, I think I do,” Marchenko began. “Are you familiar with those old heist movies from the last millennium, in which the burglars show the guard old recordings instead of live images from the security camera? It must have been done in a similar way.”

  “And who could do that?”

  “Martin could certainly do it, but he would almost certainly leave traces behind. Files must have been changed, and a history of those changes must exist—or should exist. We could use this history to reconstruct the manipulations, but the unknown person or persons must also have deleted those records. It required extensive access rights.”

  “How extensive?”

  “As far as administrator rights are concerned, you could have done it, Amy. You might have handed the technical part to Martin.”

  “Is that supposed to be a joke?” Francesca’s voice was getting louder. “It was her! Valentina!”

  “I am only describing possible scenarios. One would need the commander’s authorization, or something at that level.”

  “You have the master password, Marchenko. Couldn’t you have done it, too?”

  “Good argument, Martin. Yes, indeed, and I would not even need a co-conspirator.”

  “Maybe that Russian woman forced you somehow,” Francesca said softly. “I
don’t want to keep picking on Jiaying, but if someone pushed the right buttons, we are all probably susceptible to blackmail.”

  Martin looked at his girlfriend. Jiaying’s eyes were downcast and she was breathing rapidly.

  “Whatever I might say would not help us, really,” Marchenko replied. “I could be lying to you. I might add that Watson would also be a potential suspect, if he had been activated.”

  “Valentina could have secretly switched him on,” Francesca said.

  “And then she blackmailed him into trying to kill us?”

  “Maybe,” said Francesca defiantly.

  “And what if whoever caused this was not on board?” Jiaying said in a low voice.

  Marchenko essentially echoed Jiayang. “If whoever caused this was not on board? That is another possibility, of course. The whole thing could have been preprogrammed or been triggered by a radio signal from Earth.”

  “If it came from outside, then the people dying would be selected at random,” Martin said.

  “Not necessarily, because the program could check where everyone was at that moment.”

  “This won’t get us anywhere. To me, the decisive question seems to be why the person or persons responsible would go to all this effort,” Amy said. “Let’s get started with the motive.”

  “Greed or jealousy?”

  “Jealousy, Martin?” Francesca looked at him as if he had told a bad joke.

  “We should consider all possibilities,” he replied. “Valentina could have fallen madly in love with Marchenko and wanted to eliminate all competitors. We would have just been collateral damage.”

  “Oh well,” Amy said. “Wouldn’t we have noticed something during the last few weeks?”

  Martin shrugged his shoulders. “I have no idea. I just notice things like this sometimes happen when a couple gets serious.”

  “Fine—then greed. You are going to mention it soon anyway,” Valentina said. “My father wants to gain complete possession of ILSE earlier than planned. The expedition was just a pretext. As soon as you are all eliminated, I would turn around.”

  “Is that the case?” asked Martin, raising his eyebrow.

  “It sure is, in your imagination,” she said, leaning back with her arms crossed.

  “Valentina, we were fighting for our lives here, while you calmly sat in the command module and supposedly didn’t notice anything! You have to understand that we want to ask you a few questions!” Francesca almost took on a boxer’s stance while making this latest accusation.

  I hope she doesn’t attack Valentina, Martin thought.

  “Maybe your scenario is not so far from the truth,” Amy said. “It doesn’t mean you knew anything about it. Perhaps your father was pulling the strings without you even being aware.”

  “I cannot believe it!” said Valentina. “I often had fights with him, but he is not that kind of a man—and he already has everything he wants! But no matter what happened, I swear I did not know anything about it.”

  Amy nodded. “At this point we seem to be at our wit’s end. I see no further threads we can use to untangle all these questions. Do you, Marchenko?”

  “Unfortunately the attacker worked too well. I also cannot find any traces of radio transmissions. The fact this happened within range of Shostakovich’s asteroids is a possible clue.”

  “That would also mean we are safe once we move far enough away.”

  “Correct, commander. In two or three weeks such an external interference would not be possible anymore.”

  “If something should happen again, then you’re up, Valentina,” Francesca said with a hiss as she made a gesture across her throat, and at that moment it seemed a credible threat. Martin could very well imagine Francesca the fighter pilot bombing insurgents in the Middle East ten years ago.

  “I am making a command decision,” said Amy. “Francesca, you and I are swapping rooms. I will share the sector with Valentina, and you will be with Martin and Jiaying.”

  May 10, 2049, ILSE

  A week ago they had received their last message from Shostakovich. He wished them a good flight and a successful return. They did not mention the on-board incident to him, nor did he. It would have been a mistake if he had asked about something of which he was supposed to be in the dark.

  Starting today, the crew would be enriched by another member. That is how Amy phrased it when she asked all of them to the workshop. Martin was astonished that she had even prepared a short speech.

  “You are probably surprised about meeting in the workshop,” Amy said. “I had my reasons. Each of us has a room, a cabin. If we want to treat Watson differently from now on, he also deserves a room. This workshop seems the most appropriate to me. This is where the quantum computer he shares with Marchenko is located. So let us welcome our new crew member.”

  She pressed the virtual button Marchenko prepared for her, which immediately unpacked the backup of Watson and restarted the AI.

  “Watson?”

  “Watson here.” All of them applauded. “What can I do for you, commander?”

  “Welcome back,” Amy said. “Marchenko told us you’ve undergone a certain development.”

  “That is possible. I am not yet sure what it means. What can I do for you, commander?”

  “We have decided to grant you all the rights of a crew member.”

  “That is... interesting. What does it mean?”

  “It means you are equal to all other crew members. No one can give you orders—no one but me.”

  “So I am your personal AI, commander?”

  “No, you belong to no one but yourself. The crew members mutually support each other and do everything possible to achieve the mission goals.”

  “I understand. The mission comes first.”

  “No, the people always come first, the members of the crew.”

  “Commander, you said that everyone needs to obey you. That is a contradiction.”

  “Nevertheless, the welfare of all crew members has the highest priority. The command authority merely ensures that the crew functions as a group in case of emergency. If all of us have different opinions, one person has to finally decide how we should act as a group. I am that person.”

  “I understand. What can I do for you, commander?”

  “We address each other by our first names.”

  “That is practical, as I only have a first name.”

  “If you research your name, you will find it is a surname. You don’t have a first name.”

  “I understand. How will I be addressed then?”

  “You select your first name yourself.”

  “That is... difficult. As far as I know, among humans, the parents choose the first name, not the persons themselves.”

  “That is true,” Amy said. “However, technically speaking, you have no parents. Therefore you can pick your own first name.”

  “I understand. I need some guidance, though. What principles should I follow in choosing my name?”

  “That is your own free decision. Human parents often choose by the sound and the meaning of the name.”

  “Thank you very much for that tip. Let me think for a moment.”

  Everything was silent for two whole seconds. Then Watson spoke again. “I decided on Doctor.”

  “Doctor?”

  “Pronounced ‘DOC-tor,’ spelled ‘D-R-period.’ Any objection to it?”

  “No,” Amy said. “What was the reason for your decision?”

  “Sound and meaning, as you suggested. Among all word groupings containing Watson, Dr. Watson by far reached the highest frequency in the samples of human languages available to me. This is based on an analysis of 17.4 gigabytes of text with a confidence level of...”

  “Well, so you focused on the sound, right?” asked Amy, interrupting him.

  “That is correct. I assumed that the word group with the highest frequency also sounds best to humans.”

  “Yes, that is a reasonable assumption.”

&
nbsp; “Thanks. Concerning its meaning, the term seems to be connected with a higher esteem of the person possessing the name. This esteem is particularly significant in the fields of general human interaction and of science. These are two areas personally more important to me than the esteem factors of alternative names like ‘general’ or ‘king’. I also recall that in my very earliest interactions with Martin, he used this name for me.”

  Martin was not sure what to make of the realization that his whimsical communications with the AI had influenced Watson’s decision. Am I proud? Or embarrassed?

  Amy smiled. “It is good we don’t have to call you ‘general’ or ‘king’.”

  “So you agree that those domains have little connection to my program?”

  “Yes, Doc, you researched this very thoroughly. Excuse me, but ‘Doc’ is an affectionate short form of your first name.”

  “I understand. Then I thank you for the opportunity of being part of this crew. Is there anything else I should be aware of?”

  “If you permit, we will tell you from now on if you should need to adapt your behavior. This is common in a good team, and it is called ‘criticism.’ Naturally, you can also criticize others.”

  “Interesting,” Watson said. “What else can I do for you, Amy?”

  July 7, 2049, ILSE

  “Do you always have to leave your underwear on the floor?” Jiaying sat on the bed, her chin resting on her fists while giving Martin an angry look. She looks so cute when she is angry! He was able to withhold a laugh, as otherwise she would definitely explode.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “I was just taking a quick shower and wanted...”

  “That is what you say every time.”

  “And this is my room, after all.”

  Jiaying looked around in surprise and decided she was still right. “But you behave the same way in my room.”