“To die of boredom, while you get your hands on dark matter for the first time?” asked Livia.
“As the caretaker of the Alpha Omega tourists, of course,” said Dave.
“Oh, what a nightmare. I’d almost forgotten,” said Livia.
“Hopefully they won’t get in our way,” said Daniel.
“I’m sure the administration will keep Ihab Chatterjee’s school excursion at a distance,” Dave assured them.
August 24, 2026 – SpaceShip SS1
“Jenna? I finally got through to you,” said Brandon.
“Sorry. I was on a plane. How are you?”
“I’m bored. I never thought I’d get used to floating weightlessly in space so quickly. Where are you?”
“In Florida.”
“Oh, you are? I thought the press conference was canceled.”
“It was. But there was another one. Don’t you watch the news ?”
She was right. He should recheck the news. He’d been watching one Simpsons episode after another since yesterday. It had become like an addiction.
“Brandon?”
“No, no news. What happened?”
“A couple of scientists found indications of dark matter on a comet. Now NASA wants to redirect the latest Artemis expedition there.”
“Insane. Dark matter? That sounds like something out of one of my books.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. The Hole or something.”
“That was about a black hole, not dark matter.”
“Sounds similar.”
“Only a journalist would say that.”
“Hey, who beat you three times in a row at Trivial Pursuit?”
Oh, the darkest moment of his life, and also the brightest. They’d been at a media event, and one of the speakers had canceled, so they’d had to while away two hours in a dreary congress building. A photographer had brought Pocket Trivial Pursuit with him, which four of them had played together. Jenna had known so much that he’d had no choice but to fall in love with her. And he’d only played because she asked him so nicely.
“Brandon?”
“Sorry, I was thinking about Trivial Pursuit.”
“I see.”
Jenna smiled. She always understood him, which was almost frightening. Recently he’d been trying to test her limits, although that was probably a bad idea. It was good to be understood. Previously, he’d had no idea what that was like.
“Brandon?”
“Yep, I’m here.”
“That’s good.”
“Are you flying back today?”
“I wanted to talk to a couple more people from NASA, and after that I have an interview with one of the scientists.”
“Then say ‘hello’ from me. Maybe he’s read one of my books.”
“He’s actually a meteorologist, not a physicist.”
“Hey, meteorologists read them too!”
“Fine, I’ll ask him. And you?”
“It’s going to get interesting tomorrow.”
“Why’s that?”
Shit, he’d let it slip. And to Jenna of all people. Although, given that she was the only person he spoke to, he couldn’t let it slip to anyone else.
“Brandon?”
“Where were we? How’s the weather in Florida.”
Jenna laughed. “Okay then, tell me tomorrow. Have a nice evening with Sophie.”
“She’s quite different from my first impression of her.”
“Good for you. She leads a wild life, if the magazines are to be believed.”
“No details.”
“I don’t remember them, anyway. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”
“Bye, Jenna.”
August 24, 2026 – TU Darmstadt
Karl yawned. It had felt strange walking barefoot through an unfamiliar house whose inhabitants were still asleep. An observer might have thought he was an intruder. He’d been unable to sleep, so he’d left the guest room and gone to the university.
Now, he was freezing. He should have worn socks and shoes instead of sandals. The weather report for today had promised a warm late summer evening, but the night had turned chilly with a clear, starry sky. A row of lights, 60 SpaceLink satellites, was moving across the firmament like a string of pearls. They’d been launched by Alpha Omega, just like the probe that must have crashed into Comet 67P yesterday.
He’d launched the simulation last night. It must be finished by now. What had happened up there? He couldn’t rest without knowing, especially since finding out that NASA wanted to send astronauts there.
“Where were you this morning?” asked Sylvia.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I went back to work,” replied Karl.
“You missed out. Johannes made his amazing blueberry pancakes.”
Yeah, it would have been great breakfasting with his ex-wife’s new family. Karl had to smile, as the idea seemed so absurd. He should have taken a hotel room.
“Was the early start worth it, at least?” asked Sylvia.
“Yes, that’s why I asked you here.”
His program had prepared the simulation as a short video. He clicked on the start button. A small point approached a larger one, diagonally from below, and the smaller point changed color.
“The redder it gets, the faster it’s moving,” Karl explained. “You can see the simulation’s margin of error here at the edge.”
The two points met. They disappeared and were replaced by a cloud, which slowly spread out.
“What is it I’m seeing? Did you simulate the approach of the NASA ship to 67P?”
“I hope not. That’s an Alpha Omega probe approaching the comet and crashing into it.”
“Alpha Omega? What have they got to do with it? They’ve only known about our discovery since yesterday. How could they have sent a probe there so quickly?”
“This data is from yesterday, Sylvia.”
“Then I don’t understand.”
“I... I made a mistake. Alpha Omega found out from me that something’s going on up there. I was trying to find a way to take a closer look. I couldn’t have guessed NASA was going to come to the party.”
“And you commissioned Alpha Omega? Without asking me, let alone informing me?”
“No, I didn’t know what they were planning. I just asked them if they could help me. Which they flat-out refused.”
“But obviously, only ostensibly. And how do you know this?”
“A former intern who works at the OGS in the Canary Islands sent me the data.”
“And why don’t I know anything about this? What else have you forgotten to report to me?”
“I... Nothing. I’m sorry.”
“That doesn’t help me, Karl. I thought we were a team, like we used to be. That only works if there’s trust.”
“I only wanted us to be successful.”
“And you think I didn’t? Shit, Karl! You really disappoint me.”
“I’m so sorry, Sylvia. I would have—”
“This is going nowhere. Show me your simulation again. I don’t think I understand what the problem is.”
That was typical of Sylvia. When it was about work, she could quickly put personal problems aside. If only he had that ability! She could probably collaborate with the biggest jackass. Well, yeah, she was certainly doing exactly that.
He pressed the play button again. The small point rushed faster and faster toward the bigger one.
“Am I right in assuming the probe didn’t get brighter?” asked Sylvia.
“Exactly.”
She was on the right track. “So at the end of its flight, it was constantly increasing its speed without using its thruster,” she posited.
“Correct,” he said. Karl skipped to the last few frames. “Only here, just before the end, it gets noticeably brighter,” he said.
“It probably tried to brake there,” Sylvia guessed.
“But there’d be no point,” Karl replied. “At that speed, it was clear it wouldn’t make a differenc
e.”
“Maybe... some kind of protective mechanism that always kicks in under those conditions?”
“Space probe control software isn’t that dumb anymore—especially not Alpha Omega’s. They update their probes every two months.”
“But you have a theory, Karl.”
“Yes. Robert Millikan at Green Bank Observatory intercepted a communication with Philae. That must have been shortly before the collision.”
“What was the content? And didn’t you say you weren’t hiding anything else from me?”
“But you knew Millikan was helping us. Unfortunately, we couldn’t decrypt the contents. But I assume the probe had somehow noticed our lander and tried to save it at the last moment.”
“How noble! Could it be that you’re just anthropomorphizing the technology?”
“No,” said Karl, “you obviously don’t know it, but it’s a normal part of common security protocol to try to avoid collateral damage. If a probe knows it’s going to be destroyed, it does everything it can to not damage other values.”
“Values?” asked Sylvia.
“Whatever—technology, humans, information... There’s an evaluation algorithm that simplifies the decision. So the probe wasn’t being nice. Just efficient.”
“It’s about what you do, not why?”
“Strange. When I used to give you flowers, it made a big difference to you whether I thought of it myself or if you had to prompt me.”
“That’s different, Karl, but we’re digressing. Then what does your simulation tell us?”
“You said it yourself—the probe’s speed increased even though the thruster wasn’t firing.”
“You mean because it was being pulled in by the comet?”
“Yes. By 67P, or by the dark matter that’s spreading out there.”
“And you think that could be dangerous?”
“I don’t know. The Alpha Omega probe was no bigger than a shoebox. It wouldn’t have had a very powerful thruster. It can’t be compared to the Orion capsule. But NASA should know about this.”
“Fine. I’ll let my contact there know.”
There was a knock at the door. It opened and a young woman poked her head in. “Professor? The journalists from the newspaper are here. They insisted I fetch you.”
“Thank you, Maike. I’m coming.”
“Which newspaper?” asked Karl.
“Best you don’t ask.”
Sylvia stood up to go. She waved to him from the door and left the room. At that moment, the exhaustion hit him. Karl put his arms on the desk and his head on his arms and fell asleep.
August 24, 2026 – Lunar Gateway
Mission Control needed them to hurry. They’d been shuffling provisions and equipment back and forth for hours. The crew capsule in which they were going to visit 67P needed to be as light as possible, but still able to carry enough provisions for a week-long voyage. Their predecessors from Artemis V had already prepared the HLS, but it wouldn’t be used now.
“That crate stays in the Gateway,” said Dave.
Daniel looked at the metal lid—cutlery and dried food. “Then why did I bring it out?” he asked.
“Not that one, I meant the one behind it.”
He took the crate back. At least everything up here was weightless. The other container also contained dried food, but no cutlery. They’d eat straight out of the packets on this trip. That used to be normal. The Apollo astronauts would probably think their modern counterparts were spoiled, wannabe adventurers.
“I just got some bad news,” Dave announced.
“What is it? Are we going straight home?” Livia asked.
“Not that bad. We have to go outside.”
Great. Going outside was an exhausting business. And he’d been out just the day before yesterday.
“Why? Another pointless visual check?” asked Daniel.
“No. They’ve realized the capsule’s tank isn’t quite full. We’re supposed to fill it with fuel from the landing module to be safe.”
“Then we can forget the lander.”
“Yes, Livia, we’re obviously not going to land on the moon anymore.”
“I was still hoping when we got back from the comet we could—”
“Forget it,” said Daniel.
“Who’s coming outside with me?” asked Dave. “We have to use a special hose that’s outside under an unpressurized hatch.”
“I was outside yesterday,” Livia remarked.
“And me the day before,” Daniel added.
“That was the day before the day before,” Dave corrected him.
“Fine, I’ll come,” said Daniel.
“I’m glad you’re so eager to come for a walk with me.”
“And? What did you want to talk to me about privately this time?” asked Daniel once they were outside on the Gateway’s metal hull.
Dave laughed. It was a full laugh, not mocking, and Daniel liked it. He wanted to stroke Dave’s cheek, rough from not shaving, but he probably wouldn’t appreciate it. Daniel would have noticed long ago if his captain was also gay.
“Nothing,” said Dave. “I just thought you could use some exercise. The doctor at Mission Control said your fitness has gotten worse.”
“What? Martin, the traitor, complained to you about my fitness? The man’s a doctor, and he smokes!”
“A good doctor, I’ve known him a long time. Do you think maybe you’re neglecting your training a little? I don’t want you getting osteoporosis.”
“So you did want a private chat.”
“No, I could have said that to you at dinner. But since you asked... Watch out!”
Daniel froze, just in time to avoid smashing the end of the hose against the Gateway’s sensitive long-range antenna. He put his hand in front of his helmet visor. It was dazzlingly bright because the large solar panels were reflecting the sunlight toward him. He was getting hot in his spacesuit.
“You go to the capsule,” said Dave, “and I’ll go to the HLS.”
“Okay.”
Daniel clipped his safety line on and pulled himself forward to the space capsule in which they’d arrived. The tank connector was on the back section, the ESM, which the Europeans had built. Solid tech, no question.
The hose jerked, the signal that Dave was in position. Daniel opened the covers on the tank and the hose, and then screwed the hose onto the tank using the giant retaining nut.
“I’m ready,” he said into the microphone. He checked again that everything was tight.
“Me, too,” said Dave.
“Activating valve,” said Livia.
The hose jerked again and then went stiff, as if it had produced an erection. Daniel bent forward. It looked like a layer of ice was forming on it, but that was impossible in the vacuum. Daniel groped in front of him.
“Don’t touch,” said Dave, as though he was watching.
His commander was right. The hose must be extremely cold. Touching it with his warm gloves wasn’t a good idea.
“How much longer?” asked Daniel.
“Thirty minutes,” said Livia. “The lower the pressure difference, the slower it flows.”
Daniel was sweating. Taking off the suit was more strenuous than the entire EVA. He hadn’t noticed until now how stuffy the air was in here. That was the advantage of a brand-new spacesuit.
“Can you help me?” Livia asked.
“Hey, I’m still standing here in my underwear,” Daniel replied.
“It’s warm enough. We need to get the suits into the capsule. They’re too bulky for one person.”
“All right, let’s go.”
Dave’s and Livia’s suits were attached to the wall. Daniel released the clips on Dave’s suit. He pulled it forward, turned it on its back, and pushed it head-first toward Livia.
“Got it,” she said. She caught the head section in both hands, pushed off, and slowly floated toward the capsule. She looked like she was transporting a corpse. “We need to get it through the hatch
and then bend it in the middle.”
“Why do we even need them?” asked Daniel. “I thought we were just doing a fly-by?”
“Safety,” said Livia.
That was the reason for everything.
Dave was holding out a headset. “Daniel? I’ve got Mission Control here for you.”
“Put it through the speakers?” Daniel asked.
“It’s private.”
“All right.”
He floated over to Dave, took the headset, and put it on. “What is it?”
“Luna here, your CapCom.”
“Yeah, Dave told me. Has something happened? Is my mother sick?”
“No, don’t worry. We just have a small situation.”
“Which is?”
“We’ve recalculated everything. The mission to 67P is safer, the lighter it is. But there’s an unavoidable minimum mass per person.”
“We could go without the spacesuits.”
“Unfortunately not, Daniel. But if two astronauts fly instead of three, we’ll have a third less weight.”
He was supposed to stay in the Gateway. Great.
“You’re the largest and heaviest. It’s only logical that it’s you.”
“Why did you guys even bring me here?”
“Please don’t take it personally. Your role in the Gateway carries lots of responsibility.”
“Right. Twiddling my thumbs and watching.”
“No. You’re responsible for the safety of your friends.”
“If anything happens to them, I won’t be able to do anything about it. I won’t even make it back to Earth.”
“Nothing’s going to happen. And I’m sorry, but this decision is final. Please don’t make it more difficult than it has to be for everyone.”
August 25, 2026 – SpaceShip SS1
“Sophie, Emily, and I,” Kenichi said.
“Sorry?” asked Yunus.
The Dark Spring: Hard Science Fiction Page 12