Ice Moon 4 Return to Enceladus

by Brandon Q Morris

  “Look what I found,” Watson said, turning away again and aiming the beam of his own flashlight at the rear right corner of the room. Marchenko took several steps forward. Something looking like an old spacesuit lay there. It wasn’t a modern NASA suit, like he had last worn, but an older Russian model. Marchenko knew this type, and he stepped closer. On the chest there would be a label with the name of its wearer. He bent down and read the Cyrillic lettering—Марченко!

  “Tshyort vosmi,” he exclaimed.

  “Come here and help me,” he told Watson. He grabbed one leg of the suit and started to pull. It was heavy. Watson pulled on the other leg. Was there someone inside the suit? Marchenko tried to see if there was anything inside the helmet, but there was only a black emptiness. No, something made the suit deliberately heavy—he had to remember this was no real basement. The suit was supposed to be hiding something, and someone had put a lot of effort into this.

  “Just a second,” Marchenko said. Seemingly out of nowhere a laser sword appeared in his hand. Visualization is so great, he thought. In reality, a brute-force algorithm was currently trying to crack the encryption of the procedure. The person responsible for it could not have had much time, and indeed the laser sword cut through it as if going through butter. Finally both of them managed to pull the lower part of the suit aside. Luckily, it was empty.

  There was a hole below it. Marchenko shined the flashlight into the hole, but its beam got lost in nothingness.

  “It goes deep into the kernel,” he said, and Watson nodded. Here the attacker had obviously used a flaw in the code to reach deeper levels, but why had he camouflaged the hole with Marchenko’s old spacesuit, of all things? Was this supposed to be a kind of sign, and if so, for what? Marchenko hated this kind of riddle.

  “Thank you, Watson,” he said. “I think that must be it.”

  “Yes, I think so, too. It is good we found it so fast,” Watson replied.

  That was indeed a lucky coincidence, Marchenko thought. It could have taken them weeks to check each line of code carefully, although sometimes a bit of luck was all you needed. But it still would not help them. This was the end. They would not be able to catch the burglar. No one knew what waited for them in the depths of the hole. The commander’s authorization, which had brought them here, ended in the basement. They were aware of how the attacker found a way, but they knew neither his motives nor his true capabilities.

  “What now?” asked Watson as he stopped in the basement corridor. He looked content. The search must have been fun for him.

  “Back to daylight,” Marchenko answered. “We cannot go any further down here. Thanks to the COAS, we know about the data distortion and can take it into account when planning our course.”

  “What if I climb down there myself—at my own risk?”

  “Absolutely not. We still need you. If you get lost inside the kernel...”

  “What a pity. And thanks again!” said Watson. “Can we do anything about the transmission you recorded?”

  “You saw the key length, Doc.”

  “Yes, 4,096 bits.”

  “That is much too big. Our quantum computer would take months on it. And we cannot ask anyone on Earth to help us.”

  “I know.”

  “So?”

  Watson shrugged. Dust fell from his old-fashioned coat. “I was hoping... oh, forget it,” he said.

  “Hoping what?”

  “I was hoping we could spend some more time down here, hunting for secrets.”

  “I understand,” Marchenko said, “you had fun doing this.”

  “Ah, that is what this feeling is called?”

  “Yes. You recognize it by the fact you do not want to stop doing what you are currently engaged in.”

  “Thanks, Dimitri.”

  Age of Ascent, 30

  There was:

  Recognition.

  Surprise.

  Change.

  Infinite water.

  There is:

  Greed.

  Old greed.

  New greed.

  Curiosity.

  There will be:

  Visitors.

  Visited.

  Fear.

  The fear of the visitors.

  The fear of the visited.

  December 13, 2049, ILSE

  The five of them sat around the table in the command module, waiting for... nothing to happen. People are strange, Martin thought. The fuel would last a long time, the reaction mass tanks were adequately filled, the computer calculated their trajectory for several weeks ahead, and still Amy saw this as a reason to celebrate. Soon the crew would reach the moment in which the flight parabola would once again turn into an ellipse, by entering a path around the planet that was also orbited by their destination.

  They had already prepared everything necessary. For weeks the drives had been firing in their direction of travel in order for the speed of ILSE to fall below the escape velocity of Saturn. Today the crew should reach that moment. So Amy had proposed they drink a toast, and Valentina produced a bottle of vodka she had somehow managed to smuggle on board.

  “A tradition among cosmonauts,” the Russian woman proclaimed.

  Nothing would happen at that particular moment, except some glasses clinking in the command module. Martin thought it odd, and it seemed to him they were celebrating the nothingness. Good—at least they would not be flying further out into the solar system, but that still did not get them any closer to Earth. As Saturn’s satellite for a time, they would actually be moving away from it, with the two planets moving around the sun at different speeds.

  It doesn’t matter. Let Amy have her fun, Martin thought.

  “Watson, what is it looking like?” she asked.

  “To be exact, we will start moving in an elliptical trajectory in about 35 minutes. With our instruments we cannot determine it more precisely.”

  The commander looked around. Valentina had already poured a full glass for everyone. All of them were gazing expectantly at Amy.

  “The alcohol will evaporate if you let it stand around for half an hour,” warned Marchenko, who shared the fog display with Watson.

  “Dimitri is right,” Amy said. Her voice sounded very solemn. “I would like to raise a glass with you to celebrate everything we have already achieved.”

  “And what would that be?” blurted Martin, immediately angry at himself for his social blunder. Jiaying gave him a nasty look. “Sorry,” he said, not wanting to be a spoilsport.

  “We are celebrating the many months, the one and a half billion kilometers that we have covered together, despite surprising difficulties.” Amy calmly continued. “You have done all a great job, and I don’t tell you this often enough. Well, cheers!”

  “Do you realize we were at this same spot exactly three years and five days ago?” asked Jiaying.

  “Oh yes,” Francesca replied. “But it was much more dramatic back then, because we did not have enough reaction mass and had to use Saturn’s atmosphere for braking.”

  Martin only remembered that those were exciting days. Smiling, they toasted each other. Even Valentina and Francesca managed to exchange smiles. At that moment Martin only heard the sound of the glasses briefly touching. Since they were not wine glasses, the clink was a bit muted. He poured the burning liquid down his throat and closed his eyes. He literally felt the vodka traveling its path. A hot trail ran down his esophagus, until the drink had spread so much that its effect faded.

  And what now? He imagined Saturn reaching out for ILSE with a strong but gentle hand. He could not see anything through the porthole, since the command center was aimed backward, facing the sun, but in his imagination the planet was much more impressive than in the telescopic images of the fog display. Saturn was a silent monster. From far away it seemed quiet and gentle, but if you approached it too closely, the violent storms in its atmosphere would smash you.

  From up here they had a comfortable view, as Martin well remembered. He
saw the broad stripes which rotated together, and there were also the giant anticyclones, storms larger than all of Earth and older than himself. If he was lucky he could also see the aurora, which developed very differently than it did on his home planet.

  While the hand of Saturn was strong, it was also infinitely soft. In tiny steps it forced—no, guided—ILSE from its previous course and led it gradually around the planet, still far outside the rings. This deviation was based on the universal force of gravity. Two masses attracted each other because they created their own depressions in space time. These in turn were located within the depressions caused by their stars, which were within the depressions of their local groups and galaxies. Together with all their neighboring stars they followed the hidden structure of the cosmos, which was dominated by the ominous dark matter.

  Was that the end? Martin could not believe it. Whenever humans thought they had found an end, the path went on elsewhere. Did the entire universe follow the gravity paths of the multiverse, or was there something else, completely unimaginable? Was the space he knew an exotic exception, or was it the norm? He would like to discuss this with the being on Enceladus. It had existed for so long. During that time it must have developed a very different, and at the same time, profound concept of the universe, which might advance human knowledge by centuries—if they succeeded in establishing mutual and meaningful communications—but perhaps that was utterly impossible.

  “Cheers to the second phase!” said Francesca, interrupting his musings. “Cheers to Marchenko,” she added.

  Valentina must have refilled all of our glasses. Martin raised his glass to the others. The second phase. Right, Martin thought, as he exchanged toasts with his crewmates. Land on Enceladus, launch expedition in Valkyrie, pick up Marchenko—and let’s not forget to set up the laser gun and fill up the reaction mass tanks. Maybe he was much closer than expected to the scientific discussion he dreamed of.

  December 17, 2049, ILSE

  Yesterday, Martin had searched through the log files from three years ago. Watson had certainly not forgotten how the landing was performed back then, but it could not hurt if Martin himself checked for errors that could be avoided this time. He tried to reconstruct his own memories with the aid of the log files, and it worked surprisingly well. When he closed his eyes he could even hear the newborn Sol cry.

  Their task had not gotten any easier. Through several cycles the crew adapted the orbit of ILSE to that of Enceladus. However, in order to move from a path around Saturn to one around the much smaller moon, the ship would have to decelerate sharply. Then ILSE would be moving at a speed relative to the surface of Enceladus that could be compared to a passenger plane landing on Earth. If the ship was moving too fast, the small moon, with its diameter of only 505 kilometers, would not be able to hold it.

  Besides, they had been through all of this before. It worked last time, so we should manage it without problems this time, Martin reasoned. He was amazed by how much this statement seemed to calm him. Together with the others he was waiting for the signal. Watson was in control, and he had handled his job flawlessly three years ago.

  The AI started with the countdown. When it reached zero, a force pressed Martin into the seat. It felt almost as strong as it had during the launch of the Russian rocket. The drives were aimed in their direction of flight. This allowed Martin to see Saturn through the porthole, and the planet completely filled his field of view. He did not have to suffer g forces for long; after less than a minute, the apparent weightlessness of free fall returned.

  They had all decided not to waste time. The selection of a landing site was simple—it had to be near Valkyrie, the drill vessel that was once again going to take some of them to the bottom of the ice ocean. The area in the vicinity of the South Pole was significantly more cragged than their first landing site, but Francesca believed she would be able to handle it. They would also place the laser gun and its power supply there, thus completing the task assigned by Shostakovich.

  ILSE would only be required to circle the moon once before descending.

  “I have an area about 200 by 150 meters near Valkyrie that should be suitable for a landing,” Watson reported.

  “Exact distance?”

  “1,200 meters, commander.”

  “That’s good,” Amy said. “What about the surroundings? No high mountains?”

  “Nothing above 100 meters. In the East there are volcanic rocks, about 80 to 100 meters high. Otherwise the area is surrounded by fissured ice fields.”

  “I can easily handle that. The approach vector is in a southerly direction, so a few rocks will not pose a problem,” Francesca said.

  “Then let’s get into the lander module!” exclaimed the commander.

  “Just a moment, Amy. We haven’t decided on the distribution of tasks yet,” Valentina said.

  “We rely on proven teams,” Amy said. “Francesca and Martin will dive in Valkyrie. You and Jiaying are going to take care of the lander and fill up our supplies of reaction mass for the drives.”

  “I do not agree,” Valentina said. “It is part of the agreement that I am going on board Valkyrie.”

  “Marchenko, could you confirm this? It has been so long since we discussed it.”

  “I confirm it, commander. I think Shostakovich did not want to miss this event. For a scientist, it would be an incredible experience. Therefore his daughter has to take part in the excursion.”

  “Okay,” Amy said. “But Valkyrie is only designed for two, and on the return trip we also have to find room for Marchenko—hopefully!”

  “I don’t absolutely have to go down there,” Martin said. He was not too keen on being crammed into a metal tube and diving deep into the ocean all over again.

  Amy pondered this issue, and Martin could imagine why. “You and Francesca—would that really work, Valentina?”

  “I do not have a problem with her,” she answered, impassively.

  “But I have one with her,” Francesca said.

  “Then I have to replace you with Martin. Last time, he did it really well.”

  “Out of the question,” the Italian pilot said. “Do I have to remind you what this is all about? I have to go down there.”

  “Then you will have to get along with Valentina for a while. Can you do that?”

  “Yes, commander,” Francesca said through clenched teeth. Martin felt secretly relieved. Now he did not have to go back into the depths of the ocean. Instead he could take care of the lander and the laser together with Jiaying.

  Half an hour later, all except for the commander were strapped into the seats of the lander module. Amy, who alone would stay behind in ILSE, had already said goodbye to everyone.

  “I am taking over manual control,” Francesca said.

  “I recommend the automatic mode,” Watson objected.

  “Come on, let me have some fun.”

  “Why is it fun to endanger the crew with a suboptimal solution?”

  “You wouldn’t understand, Watson. It’s the thrill of it. It happens when everything is not handled automatically. Also, I bet I can land this thing at least as well as you can.”

  “Due to the change in landing site, a comparison with the landing data of 2046 is not completely feasible.”

  “Oh, Watson, just trust me.”

  “Okay, Francesca, then I will test the concept of trust. I am all on edge. Is that the correct expression?”

  “Yes, it is,” Francesca said with a groan.

  “High gate.” Francesca’s voice brought Martin back into reality. Had he actually slept through the last few minutes? He rubbed his eyes. Now came the moment when Francesca had to check the intended landing site. He watched her press several keys. She was probably zooming in on the area, because they were still at an altitude of 3,000 meters. If something didn’t looked right, they still could save themselves and return to ILSE from here.

  “Looks good,” the pilot announced. “We are continuing our descent. All systems
go.”

  Martin switched on his own display. Enceladus seemed to him like some very old, wrinkly acquaintance. The area near the South Pole was crisscrossed by deep fissures, the so-called ‘Tiger Stripes,’ through which steam now and then shot from the ocean into space. This posed no danger for them. The very first probe humans sent to Enceladus, Cassini, had flown through several of the steam plumes.

  “Watson, status of the landing system?” requested Francesca.

  “Go. Could I say ‘great’ instead? I prefer that word. It sounds more...” Watson replied.

  “You may, but keep it short.”

  “Great.”

  A minute went by. Martin noticed that he was breathing faster, but there was really no reason for concern.

  “1,000 meters,” Francesca said.

  Martin tried to calm himself down by remembering 2046, but it didn’t work. Back then, hadn’t Francesca activated the automatic landing mode because she thought it was crazy to descend manually? No, he must be mistaken.

  “150 meters. Low gate.”

  They had reached the point of no return. Since Francesca had not aborted the landing before now, they would reach the surface anyway, dead or alive. What about the gravity here? Even if they started falling like a stone from this point, they should be able to survive the impact due to the low gravity. Martin remembered how he and Hayato had moved Valkyrie using sheer muscle power, even though it would have weighed several tons on Earth.

  Francesca now had her hands on the left and right sticks. She adjusted the ship so the main jets aimed directly downward. Martin checked the screen—she was good: 90 degrees, even the automatic mode could not have done any better. Since Enceladus had no atmosphere, the landing party did not have to fear sudden gusts of wind. Despite knowing this, Martin’s palms were getting sweaty.