She bent forward, but could not discover a single source for the illumination. The light was blue, a vivid sky blue. It reminded her of Earth’s sky, on a nice summer day in Tuscany. Even though her finger moved on, the glow remained. She slowly turned, slid around on her knees, and gradually drew a bluish glowing circle that created a magical atmosphere. It was crazy—she had probably started hallucinating a while ago. But how did hallucination fit with the stinging pain of the cold in her hand?
Francesca gritted her teeth. Her attempt to rescue Marchenko might be hopeless, but she would manage to complete the circle. She went on centimeter by centimeter. To her left she saw the spot where she had first touched the ring. Could she go a bit faster? The light followed her naked finger. She did not ask whether this made any sense. She just wanted to finish the job.
The circle closed, and Francesca collapsed. She wanted to slip on her glove when she suddenly felt a movement. The hollow in which she was sitting moved downward. She still had the chance to jump out. She looked up. Ten meters away she recognized the silhouette of a spacesuit. Was Marchenko coming to rescue her? She shook her head. Where did this confusion come from? It was she who wanted to rescue Marchenko.
The hollow sank deeper—it had to be a hallucination. Had that traitor Valentina manipulated Francesca’s oxygen supply so that the air she breathed was slowly poisoning her? But then, why did her naked hand still hurt so much? Francesca gazed up, but a dark rim blocked her view. Now she felt the current. Water flowed past her, over her, down toward the opening that had just appeared. All around her there was darkness and rushing water. She reached toward the left into the blackness and expected a wall, but it was not there. Then the hollow hit the ground, the water ebbed away, and a last large drop splashed from above against her visor. The drop burst into a thousand droplets, glowing like sparks in the blue light that now erupted.
December 22, 2049, Enceladus
They had lost Francesca. How could this happen? Marchenko raged across the fiber-optic cables. He yelled at Amy, asking how she could let this happen, wanting to know who was responsible for the shitty planning, and when she was finally going to do something about it. He gave Martin and Jiaying hell because they had not monitored Valkyrie carefully enough, did not intervene sooner, and should have gone on board themselves. He asked how they could have allowed Francesca, of all people, to go on this journey—someone who was way too emotionally involved, and therefore no longer able to objectively judge her own situation.
Most of all, Marchenko reproached himself. He was not able to be with her when she had found the center of the forest to be empty. He did not notice how she was doing, and he had been too trusting and had not neutralized Valentina a long time ago. He only could see two possibilities—either Francesca was so desperate about her failure she had done herself in, or Valentina was responsible for her death. Why else did Francesca no longer send messages, either directly or via Valkyrie? Why were her biometrics no longer accessible, and how did she manage to completely disengage from the system?
Marchenko could access the on-board cameras of Valkyrie. If they were not being manipulated, they proved the Russian woman exited the vessel about two hours after Francesca had started out. At that point Valentina had put on her space suit and flooded Valkyrie, since this was the only way she could get out. The front cameras had captured her entering the forest, but soon afterward lost track of her.
What could he do? Marchenko was stuck inside the computer systems. While he could move between ILSE, the drill vessel, and the lander at lightning speed, Francesca was completely out of reach. He knew she had found the center of the forest, but what had happened next? What was more difficult to bear—not knowing, or the certainty of not being able to help?
“Martin, we have got to do something. We simply have to,” he pleaded.
“Easier said than done,” the German astronaut said broodingly.
“It is not easily said at all. It is cruel and terrible!”
“Sorry.”
“I repeat, we have to...”
“I know,” Martin interrupted him, “we have to do something. I am already trying to come up with an idea. The only asset we have down there is Valkyrie. We could use it to search for both of them.”
“But Valentina locked it against external control—and we do not have contact with her either,” Marchenko said bitterly. “She is a traitor.”
“Based on our previous experiences I would refrain from such accusations, Marchenko.”
“But I cannot refrain from it.”
“Let’s concentrate on how we can manage to undo the access lock.”
“Not a chance, Martin. I am sure we cannot crack the password. I already tried a dictionary attack. She is not that stupid.”
“Could we fool the system—a restart, reset, whatever? It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“We need to have physical access to do that.”
“Sorry, but I have been eavesdropping,” Watson interrupted. “I understand you—I mean we—lost a crew member. You are very concerned about it.”
“We are sad and angry,” Martin explained.
“I have a suggestion,” Watson offered. “The problem is gaining access to Valkyrie. We do not have any opportunity to do this.”
“Yes, we already got that far,” Marchenko said in an angry voice. “Sorry,” he added.
“We do not have the opportunity,” Watson continued, “but think about the command layer that manipulated our star data. It was deeper than the other layers. It is still running, as we never managed to deactivate it.”
“Yes, it undermined everything, including the user authorization,” Martin said. “That was why we couldn’t even get rid of it using the commander’s authorization.”
“Valentina locked Valkyrie at that level,” Watson said.
“We could dig through, underneath her commands,” Martin added. “That could be a way of regaining control.”
“That is an idea,” Marchenko said with a sudden feeling of profound anxiety. “But I do not know yet whether it is a good idea.”
“Why?”
“Martin, you did not see the hole this hacker—or whatever it was—dug in our operating system. It appears to be immensely deep. Someone has to get in there and find a way through the darkness to the other side.”
“I could do that,” Watson said, “I would like to make some contribution toward saving this crew member. I... pity Francesca.”
“That is a very noble offer, Doc. Do you really want to do this? It could get dangerous. It is dangerous.”
“Yes, Dimitri. I think I can handle it. I am the one who best knows the low-level programming.”
“A valid argument,” Martin said. “Doc really seems to be the best man for the job.”
Marchenko accompanied Watson back into the data basement, room 3ACC3ACC, FF08080A, 1901C04B. Everything appeared unchanged. Even the Russian spacesuit with his nameplate was still lying there. The hacker must have an odd sense of humor. Had he assumed that Marchenko would be the one who would find his trail?
There seemed to be more people suspecting his presence than he would have liked. Watson once again wore his Dr. Watson outfit, but also real mountain-climbing gear. Seeing a slightly chubby Englishman with mountaineering hardware was rather odd. Of course this was only an image—an avatar—without any practical use. Marchenko was too nervous, though, to find this funny. He also did not joke when Watson said goodbye.
“Come back safely,” he said, wanting to shake his hand formally, but Watson hugged him instead. Then Watson took his rope and tied one end to the door handle.
“Good idea,” Marchenko remarked, “it looks sturdy.”
“Just for safety’s sake,” Watson said. “I hope I will not have to use the rope. We will see each other on the other side!” Marchenko saw how the AI in the Watson outfit carefully climbed into the hole in the ground and slowly rappeled downward. Marchenko stepped close to the hole and kept watching Watso
n. It did not take long before he had disappeared into the darkness.
Marchenko knelt down and yelled into the shaft, “Watson?” The word repeatedly bounced off the walls with a dull sound and then dissolved in the sticky ooze. There was no reply. Marchenko rose. There was nothing left for him to do here.
Ten seconds later Marchenko appeared on the monitor of the lander module.
“He is on his way,” he explained to Martin.
“How long will it take?”
“Impossible to tell—maybe a few minutes.”
“So fast?”
“You know the signal propagation times. Watson has free access to all our resources. I just hope the unknown hacker did not set traps.”
“Traps?”
“Some kind of loops he could get caught in. Unsolvable problems he would become deeply absorbed in.”
“He should be able to recognize those. For such cases we introduced a subjective perception of time,” Martin said. “While the AI is solving a problem, the clock keeps ticking, and he is aware of it. And if it takes too long, the AI will try a different strategy.”
“Yes, that is the theory,” Marchenko said. “But the things I have witnessed! You will not believe what one finds while bug-checking computer games.”
“May I interrupt?”
“Watson?” Marchenko and Martin exclaimed simultaneously.
“To whom may I hand over control of Valkyrie?”
“To me,” Marchenko said. “No problems?”
“The only difficulty was finding the entrance to Valkyrie on the lowest level. Imagine moving around the sewers and trying to find the exact manhole cover over which your car is parked.”
“You made it.”
“I tried every manhole cover. But this hacker, Marchenko, really seems to be going after you. He left spray painted ‘M’s everywhere.”
“That is strange. Thanks for the warning.”
Under normal circumstances Marchenko would be worried now, but he had a much more important issue to deal with: He had to start up Valkyrie. He started sending the necessary commands to the drill vessel. Valkyrie confirmed receipt but did not execute the commands.
“Martin, I need you again. Valkyrie does not react.”
“How did Valentina leave it?”
“She locked it with her password and then exited the vessel.”
“Hatch or SuitPort?”
“Hatch.”
“That is the reason. She left the hatch open. Valkyrie is still flooded. Under those circumstances it cannot navigate.”
“Damn. Can we do anything about it? Rewrite the software?”
“The refusal makes sense. If the vessel is full of water, it lacks buoyancy. You could compare its maneuverability to an iron duck.”
“What if we switch all the power to the main engines?”
“Then Valkyrie would hit the columns with full force, Dimitri, and it would never reach the center, where we last had contact with Francesca.”
“Shit!” he said loudly. “How do we gain buoyancy?”
“Air would not be a bad idea.”
Marchenko checked the status of the oxygen tanks. “Looking good!”
“The only problem is the open hatch at the stern. All our nice air would escape,” Martin observed. “Just a moment, I have an idea,”
Marchenko watched through the interior camera of the lander module as Martin drew something.
“Take a look,” Martin said. He held the sketch in front of the camera. Marchenko saw a pipe angled upward at 45 degrees.
“If we manage to make the stern a bit heavier than the bow and then start blowing air inside, so that the gas moves toward the bow, Valkyrie should rise at an angle like this,” he said, pointing at the drawing, “and then the vessel should be somewhat maneuverable.”
“Meaning what?”
“It could not reach the surface like this, but it ought to manage the distance to the center of the Forest of Columns.”
“That is all I need,” Marchenko said. “But how do we change the weight distribution so that the stern is heavier?”
“I already have an idea,” Martin reassured him.
Marchenko watched the German send commands to Valkyrie. He placed the rear control jets in a vertical position—blowing upward to push the stern downward—and the front jets in a horizontal one.
“That should be enough. Now we slowly release air.”
Marchenko ordered the tanks to open. Air slowly streamed in and displaced water. Valkyrie started to rise.
“Tail in the water, head in the air,” Martin sang, confusing Marchenko. “Sorry—it’s a German children’s song.”
If they had not planned this, it would be a sorry sight. Valkyrie looked like it was about to crash. Marchenko carefully activated the engine. The stern scraped across the rocky bottom for a few meters.
“Must be a terrible sound,” Martin said.
The forest was surprisingly close. The vessel must not collide with the columns at any cost. Who knew how hard they were? Oh man, oh man, Marchenko thought, come on now. But the vessel did not lift off the ocean floor. He had one all-or-nothing chance left—full power to the main engine. If they were lucky, Valkyrie would shoot upward. Otherwise this would be the end for the vessel, as it would crash forcefully into the forest. He had to decide now.
“Come on, Dimitri, do it,” he said, and activated full thrust. It took a few seconds before the jet engine built up pressure. But then it overcame the inertia of the steel vessel and launched it to a height of at least 100 meters.
“It’s working, Marchenko,” Martin said. “Let’s go a bit lower and then continue.”
Good thing Valkyrie does not have any passengers right now, Marchenko thought. The main engine kept it at the current height. The control jets moved it forward. The vessel was not particularly fast, but it would reach its destination. He hoped they would not arrive too late. Was it even any use to have Valkyrie land in the center of the forest? Who knew? Perhaps Francesca could then find refuge inside the ship, and if she was being threatened by Valentina, he would just let the vessel crash on the Russian woman.
December 22, 2049, Enceladus
Francesca awoke in a windowless room about the size of a gymnasium. The ceiling was not particularly high, though, and she could easily touch it if she stood up. The walls were glowing with the same blue light as the symbols on the ring outside. She looked at her hand. Her fingertips were still wrinkly, so she could not have been unconscious for a long time.
Then she realized she was not wearing a spacesuit anymore. She frantically touched her body. Jeans, blouse, sneakers—typical streetwear. How can this be?
“Where am I?” she asked into the room. She expected an echo, but her voice was immediately swallowed by the walls.
“You are in the center of the forest. You did not change location.”
Francesca looked around. There was no one here. She distinctly heard the answer—it was not just her imagination.
“I need to... use your language processing center so we can understand each other.” This was her own voice! She was talking to herself. Was she going completely crazy? Was this caused by suffocation?
“Francesca, you are fine. You are lying in the hollow. We are watching over you.” Francesca put a hand over her heart, trying to calm herself down. Maybe these were not signs of madness, if some being—The Being?—talked to her. But it just switched from ‘I’ to ‘we.’
“Who are you?”
“You know me, darling.” Francesca touched her chin. It moved when Marchenko spoke.
“Mitya? I have come to pick you up.” Was this really her boyfriend Dimitri? Had she succeeded? Had they achieved their goal?
“I know,” he said through her mouth. “We tried to keep you from doing it.”
“You did...”
“The altered course—that was me. I installed the intermediate software layer.”
“But why? Don’t you want to return to me?”
“Is that IT’s name?”
“That is... our name. I am now a part of the entity.” Francesca shivered, because she suspected what that meant.
“You are not coming with me?”
“I cannot, darling. The danger is not yet over. The danger is still out there. I cannot leave IT alone. IT is so powerful, and at the same time so vulnerable. Without me, we could not even have this conversation. IT would probably already have been destroyed by you.”
“I am sorry.” A tear dropped from the corner of her eye. A second, third, and fourth tear followed. She did not want to cry, but she could not stop it. “I wish we’d never come here.”
“That was unavoidable. It was good we were the first ones, and not someone else. IT is very grateful to us. That is why we did not destroy ILSE. We tried to warn you with messages. We even manipulated your flight controls so you would turn around.”
“And what will happen now?”
“You will wake up in your spacesuit. Only seconds will have gone by. I do not know what happens next. IT cannot foresee the future. However, IT can feel the evil intentions lurking out there. Please be careful.”
Her eyes started closing. Francesca wanted to resist, but couldn’t. She wanted to continue talking to Marchenko, to convince him to come with her. How would her life keep being meaningful otherwise? If humanity was to blame for Dimitri having to stay here, she would hate humanity. Francesca was afraid, because she knew what she was capable of when she hated. Please, Dimitri, talk to me, give me a chance. Through her eyelids she saw the room around her dissolve into the blue glitter of lightning bugs.
December 22, 2049, Enceladus
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