The Dark Spring: Hard Science Fiction

by Brandon Q Morris

  He needed some kind of reference point. The numerator of the formula for the redshift showed the mass of the object, i.e., the comet, and the denominator showed the distance of the radiation source from the center of the comet. Everything they’d seen suggested Philae was very close to the center. So the comet’s mass must not be that great. He didn’t have precise data. Anything was possible, from the mass of dwarf planet Ceres right up to an Earth mass. But they could rule out the larger values, because those would have already caused instabilities in the solar system.

  Things could be worse. At least they didn’t have a neutron monster coming toward them. Karl spoke over the conferencing system.

  “Our guest, Karl Stoll, wants to say something,” MOM announced.

  Everyone turned toward her, as though he was going to speak through her like a mage. Karl smiled.

  “I have good news and bad news,” he said.

  They all turned to the projection wall, where his voice was coming from. Karl got a fright when he saw his face was displayed up there. It was huge, and every bit of stubble stuck out like a tree branch. He hadn’t had time to shave. How could he deactivate the camera? He got lucky and quickly found the button.

  “Let’s start with the bad news. The comet appears to be much more massive than our observations have suggested so far.”

  He explained the way redshift worked. No one interrupted him, which was a new experience. Sylvia would definitely have interjected questions as he went along.

  “So now you can see why the Orion capsule hasn’t responded. The messages from Earth are arriving there with a blueshift, while their own transmissions are reaching us with a redshift. We’re not even on the same wavelength!” He stopped, completely out of breath.

  “Thank you, Karl,” said MOM. “That’s essential information. Can you tell us where to look for transmissions?”

  “For that we need to know exactly where the NASA ship is. That will determine what frequencies we can reach them on and where we can find their replies.”

  “Unfortunately, we only have approximate data.”

  “Then we’ll have to attempt it across the entire range. The maximum frequency is provided by the redshift of the Philae data.”

  “Thanks for the tip.”

  “But we won’t have very stable contact with them, because the ship is still moving and the comet is rapidly increasing in mass. You probably have a better idea of what that means for communication.”

  “COM, I need COM,” said MOM.

  COM was responsible for the ship’s communications. Karl saw a young woman with an Asiatic face stand up.

  “I looked at Karl’s data. It’s no problem at our end to gradually change the frequencies so that our signals arrive at the capsule with the right parameters. But the Orion’s transmitters are set to fixed frequencies. So they won’t be able to match ours.”

  “Then we’ll have to adjust our receiver. Is that possible, Min?”

  “In principle, yes. But we won’t be able to coordinate with them. We’ll never be sure which of our communications are reaching them and which aren’t. And because the frequency of their signal is constantly changing, I can’t guarantee that we’ll get all their replies, either.”

  “Thank you, Min. You’ll get all the resources you need. Set up a connection, even if it only lasts a short time.”

  “Yes, MOM.”

  The young woman sat down and began typing wildly on her keyboard.

  “Min, one more thing.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Send the crew an urgent warning. They should prepare to abort the mission. We’ll calculate a new course for them as fast as we can.”

  “Understood, MOM.”

  “Can I say something?” asked a man with a high voice.

  “Frank, sure, I wanted to hear from you next.”

  “Thank you, MOM. If Planning is going to calculate an orbit, we need more data. Position and orbit of the capsule, orbit of the object, its mass—”

  “We don’t have those details, Frank. You’ll have to conjure something.”

  “But—”

  “Now is not the time for buts. Unless we want to send the crew to their deaths, we need an alternative orbit for them.”

  “Understood, MOM.”

  “Charles?”

  “Yes, MOM?”

  “We can’t solve this problem by sitting around waiting. There seems to be a very real danger that the capsule and its crew could be ripped out of their orbit. I hope Karl’s warning reached us in time.”

  “I hope so, too.”

  “Hoping isn’t enough. I want you to get me on the phone with Ihab Chatterjee. Now!”

  Poor Charles. MOM’s right-hand man was supposed to get the boss of one of the largest international companies on the line. Who knew where he was right now? He might even be asleep. But Charles had found Karl’s mobile number, which almost no one knew.

  “I’ll need half an hour,” said Charles.

  “You’ve got ten minutes.”

  “Then I’d better hurry.”

  “Thanks, Charles. I know I can count on you.”

  This was dramatic. Karl felt the way he had back when he saw Apollo 13 at the cinema. That must be because he was following the activity in Houston on a screen. There was only one difference. He could insert himself into this film and, when he had something to say, the actors listened to him. Charles—didn’t he look like an older Brad Pitt? And MOM could—

  “Hello, Susan,” said a deep, warm voice. He imagined its owner as an oil sheik, or a surgeon who only worked on celebrities.

  “Hello, Ihab,” said MOM.

  “This is a surprise,” said Ihab Chatterjee.

  “I hope you don’t mind—I’ve switched you over to the PA system,” said MOM. “You’re speaking to Mission Control for the current Artemis expedition.”

  “Then it’s not a good time to invite you out on my yacht.”

  “That would be inappropriate,” said MOM, laughing. “As a federal agency, my employer is very strict.”

  “I don’t know what earned me the pleasure, but if it’s about the travelers on SpaceShip SS1 landing on the moon, I can’t take responsibility for that. My friend Kenichi surprised me just as much as you.”

  “I didn’t ask to speak to you because I wanted to accuse you of anything,” said MOM.

  “I’m relieved. I did feel guilty about it. It could have disrupted your processes.”

  “It’s nothing to do with you, but unfortunately, our processes have been disrupted—massively.”

  “Oh, what happened? Problems with the lander?”

  “You don’t seem to have been following our activities closely.”

  “No, I’ve been focusing all my attention on battery cell production in Germany. That’s where I am currently.”

  “I understand. We sent an Orion capsule with two astronauts toward Comet 67P.”

  “An interesting object. My head of security told me what’s happening there. Did you find anything?”

  “Unfortunately, we’ve lost our connection with the capsule. And what’s worse, if we’re unlucky, our spaceship will be lost, heading out into infinite space with two astronauts on board.”

  “That sounds poetic.”

  “It’s grim, Ihab.”

  “As good poetry always is.”

  “I’ll get to the point. We need your help. Very soon.”

  “How can I—”

  “The spaceship that’s currently orbiting the moon. I’m familiar with the data. You showed me yourself.”

  “There’s always a MOM position for you with us at Alpha Omega, Susan.”

  “I’m serious. We’re about to lose two people. That hasn’t happened for almost forty years. I don’t want to go down in history as the MOM responsible.”

  “I understand. What can I do?”

  “We need your ship, Ihab.”

  “The SS1? But it’s not in my possession. Kenichi rented it. I can offer you
the SS2. It can be ready to launch within four days.”

  “That’s too late. We need to go now.”

  “But Kenichi’s currently on the surface. We’d at least have to wait till he’s back on board.”

  “That’ll take too long. Surely he can survive a while down there, and if it’s too much for him, he can fly to the Gateway.”

  “The contractual penalties I’d have to pay—”

  “Would be less than the value of the ship. If you don’t cooperate, I’ll take it to the President. He’ll expropriate the ship. We have to rescue our American heroes. The President wanted to send more Americans to the moon. He certainly won’t want two of them dead.”

  “Presumably you can do that.”

  “Definitely.”

  “But I’m skeptical about whether the SS1 is really sufficient for your needs.”

  “You intend to fly to Mars with ships like that. I expect it can manage a small excursion near the Earth to rescue two Americans. You’ll get all the credit for that, of course.”

  “And the contractual penalties that Kenichi will slap on me?”

  “The taxpayer won’t shoulder those. But it might cost you less than what the fame for rescuing two heroes will bring you. Your cars will sell even better. However, if news gets around that you weren’t prepared to help us...”

  Ihab laughed. “It’s a shame I can’t convince you to come over to Alpha Omega. Textbook carrot-and-stick approach.”

  “So, will you help us? Remember, everyone here is listening.”

  Ihab laughed again. “Yes, I will,” he said.

  “Good.”

  MOM slumped. She’d bet everything and won. Would the President really have forced one of his good friends to hand over his ship? Maybe he would have bought the ship from him. But MOM probably knew her way around U.S. internal politics better than he did.

  “Is that it?” asked Ihab. “I’ll let my people at Mission Control know to hand it over to you. A common mission like this needs unified leadership.”

  “I agree. Oh, one other thing. The ship should be under the command of a NASA astronaut. It needs to pick up Daniel Schult from the Lunar Gateway and then follow the Orion. Maybe it can tank at the Gateway, too, to be safe.”

  “It can’t. The SS1 needs methane, which you don’t have up there.”

  “Right. I forgot. We’ll calculate a course that ensures you’ll get your ship back, and we get our crew back.”

  August 29, 2026 – Lunar Gateway

  “Lunar Gateway to Orion. Please come in.”

  No answer.

  “Lunar Gateway to Orion. Please come in.”

  No answer.

  Daniel kept trying. He had to get through! If he gave up, Dave and Livia would die.

  “Lunar Gateway to Orion. Please come in.”

  No answer.

  “Lunar Gateway to—”

  “Daniel? Mission Control here.”

  “Luna. Good to hear from you.”

  “You must feel quite alone up there.”

  “That’s not the problem. It’s Dave and Livia. I can’t let them die.”

  “That’s outside of your control.”

  “I know. But feel like I’ve left them in the lurch. I should have been stuck on that comet, too.”

  “Daniel, that’s ridiculous. Mission Control ordered you to stay in the Gateway, and if you hadn’t, we wouldn’t have a trained astronaut to rescue those two.”

  “There’s going to be a rescue mission? But the next SLS won’t be launch-ready for at least a month.”

  “We’ll talk about that soon. For now I want you to keep trying to contact the capsule.”

  “That’s what I’m doing.”

  “There’s been a change of plan. We’ve been alerted to a frequency drift caused by the comet’s gravitation. If that’s true, they can’t hear you on the normal bands. I’ll send through a couple of frequencies for you to try. And you’ll have to switch in order to receive as well.”

  “Understood. That sounds straightforward.”

  “Unfortunately it’s not. The frequencies are constantly changing. I’ll send you a program for the onboard computer that continuously calculates new frequencies. But you can’t listen to them all at once. The receiver only has six channels. So it’ll be pure coincidence if you hear them, and even more unlikely that they’ll hear you.”

  “Why?”

  “The radio module in the capsule can’t be adjusted as flexibly as the one on the Gateway. Your instrument was designed to conduct experiments, but the one in the capsule is purely for communication.”

  “Shit!”

  “You said it.”

  “What about the rescue mission?”

  “Ihab Chatterjee is loaning us his SpaceShip SS1. It’s currently in lunar orbit.

  “Do you mean the one that the Japanese businessman chartered for his artist friends?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “But they’re not even trained for a normal space mission, let alone a complicated situation like this.”

  “That’s why we need you. You’ll transfer to the SS1 and take over command there.”

  “Command of a group of hobby astronauts? That’s child-minding. I’m not a kindergarten teacher! And the rich Japanese guy who’s paying for everything surely won’t want to step aside. I know his type.”

  “Don’t worry, Dan. Three of them are on the moon, anyway. We’ll offer the others the chance to transfer to the Gateway.”

  “Can’t you order them to? If I have to look after even one of them, it’ll endanger the mission.”

  “That’s the deal. We can’t turf them out.”

  “Then make them scared, Luna. We’ve got enough problems already. I’d rather fly out there alone.”

  “We’ll just have to wait and see. Start preparing to transfer. They’ll be there in less than three hours. And keep trying to reach the capsule. If we knew they were alive, it would make things simpler. And let them know help is on its way.”

  “Lunar Gateway to Orion. We’re coming to your aid.”

  No answer.

  He’d been sitting at the wheel for an hour, pedaling in preparation for the EVA. At the same time he’d attempted to contact Dave and Livia. He continuously switched frequencies, even trying some that the program hadn’t suggested, and had changed his standard transmission in case this was the only message they got.

  “Lunar Gateway to Orion. We’re coming to your aid.”

  No answer.

  “Lunar Gateway to Orion. We’re coming to your aid.”

  No answer.

  Luna had sent him the course for the rescue mission, which would take him far out into space. The Earth would shrink behind him, and he’d be all alone inside a thin steel hull. Daniel had looked at the SS1 schematics. He had to be able to handle the ship, be prepared to steer it manually to the extent that that was possible. If the Orion capsule was a yacht, the Gateway was a freighter, and the SS1 an oil tanker—an image that also corresponded to the fuel provisions.

  That was his best hope. The SS1 could launch from the surface of Mars into space, which the Orion was incapable of doing. Orion could only navigate between the moon and Earth orbit. More power meant more certainty. If he were able to rescue Dave and Livia, he’d definitely make it back.

  “Lunar Gateway to Orion. We’re coming to your aid.”

  “Orion here. We’ve... thruster malfunction... days. Please...”

  Daniel leapt up and hit his head on the ceiling. He read out the frequency. It was the Orion! He recognized Livia’s voice. But Dave must be alive, too, or she wouldn’t have said ‘we.’ He replied on the same frequency. No response. But CapCom Luna had said something about redshift. What frequency did he need to use? How could he work it out?

  “Gateway to Mission Control, can you hear me?”

  “I hear you,” said Luna.

  “I just had contact with the Orion.”

  Daniel heard clapping and stamping. Mission Contr
ol was cheering.

  “But only briefly,” he said. “Channel twenty-seven. What do I use to answer them?”

  “One moment, I’ll check. How are they?”

  “They seem to have had a thruster malfunction, but they’re both alive.”

  “Good. I’ll type the exact return frequency into the chat,” said Luna. “Unfortunately, Karl says there are no guarantees, because we don’t know what channel they were sending on.”

  “Twenty-seven, didn’t I just say that?”

  “That’s the one you received it on.”

  “Shit. Okay, I’ll keep trying.”

  “But they’re alive, that’s good news,” said Luna.

  “Try to work out scenarios that might have resulted in thruster malfunction. Then I can try to avoid those scenarios.”

  “We will, Dan.”

  “And I’d like to know how long they can hold out with the reserves they have. Livia said the word ‘days,’ but I didn’t have any context.”

  “We’ve done that. They should be able to last two weeks if they’re frugal with the emergency reserves.”

  “That’s not too tight.”

  “It’s deceptive though, Daniel, because in one week, Comet 67P will be too far away from Earth for us to reach them. They won’t make it back.”

  “Lunar Gateway to Orion. We’re coming to your aid.”

  No answer.

  Daniel radioed using the new frequency sent by Mission Control and scanned for replies with the receiver. Nothing. This wasn’t going to work. He needed to go and find them himself. The SS1 should be arriving soon.

  Daniel pedaled energetically.

  August 29, 2026 – SpaceShip SS1

  ‘Fasten your seatbelts,’ appeared on the screen.

  “People, are you seeing this?” Yunus asked.

  Brandon drifted back to his seat and read the sentence. No one had said anything about a corrective maneuver.

  “Come on, we’d better buckle in,” said Yunus.